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THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 
RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 
RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


BY 


EDWARD  SCRIBNER  AMES,  Ph.D. 

ASSISTANT    PROFESSOR  OF   PHILOSOPHY 
IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1910,    BV   EDWARD   SCRIBNER   AMES 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  September  iqio 


A^iii\. 


•  •  -•  •     • 


TO  MY  FRIENDS 

THE  MEMBERS  OF  THE 

HYDE  PARK  CHURCH  OF  DISCIPLES 

CHICAGO 


PREFACE 

This  work  undertakes  an  investigation  of  the  reli- 
gious aspect  of  normal  human  experience.  The  point 
of  view  employed  is  that  of  functional  psychology, 
which  is  necessarily  genetic  and  social.  The  method 
adopted  involves  the  use  of  much  material  from  an- 
thropology, the  history  of  religion,  and  other  social 
sciences,  but  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  organize 
this  material  and  to  interpret  it  from  the  psycho- 
logical standpoint.  The  hypothesis  that  religion  is"" 
the  consciousness  of  the  highest  social  values  arose 
from  studies  in  these  fields,  and  this  conception  has 
been  strengthened  by  further  investigations.  These 
highest  social  values  appear  to  embody  more  or  less 
idealized  expressions  of  the  most  elemental  and  urgent 
life  impulses.  Religion  expresses  the  desire  to  obtain 
life  and  obtain  it  abundantly.  In  all  stages  the  de- 
mand is  for  "daily  bread"  and  for  companionship 
and  achievement  in  family  and  community  relation- 
ships. 

These  cravings  constitute  the  inner  continuity  an^ 
identity  of  motive  in  all  the  diverse  types  of  religion, 
primitive  and  modern.  Pagan  and  Christian.  The 
social  consciousness  arises  in  every  group  in  the  medi- 
ation of  these  needs,  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  and 
in  the  aspiration  and  endeavor  to  make  life  more 
varied,  more  adequate,  and  more  ideal.  In  their 
simpler  expressions  among  primitive  peoples  these 

vu 


PREFACE 

cravings  struggle  blindly,  being  dominated  by  rigid 
custom,  and  by  magic.  In  higher  forms  they  are 
gradually  freed  from  superstition,  are  guided  by  tested 
experience,  and  are  incorporated  in  more  elaborate 
symbols. 

'  In  this  conception  of  religion  as  the  consciousness 
of  the  highest  social  values,  lies  a  partial  justification 
for  the  rather  ambitious  task  of  bringing  together  in  a 
single  volume  an  outline  treatment  of  so  many  prob- 
lems. Several  studies  have  appeared  treating  of  primi- 
tive religion  and  the  religion  of  particular  races; 
others  have  dealt  with  the  phenomena  of  conversion, 
of  faith,  of  mysticism,  and  of  other  special  interests 
with  which  the  current  religious  reconstruction  is 
concerned.  It  seems  desirable,  however,  to  bring  all 
these  phenomena  into  the  perspective  of  a  compre- 
hensive psychological  inquiry.  Such  a  treatment,  it 
is  hoped,  may  contribute  to  a  better  sense  of  propor- 
tion and  to  a  clearer  understanding  of  the  interrela- 
tion of  the  various  aspects  of  the  religious  conscious- 
ness. 

During  the  past  year  the  chapter  on  *' Religion  as 
involving  the  Entire  Psychical  Life"  appeared  in  the 
International  Journal  of  Ethics,  and  the  chapter  on 
" Nonreligious  Persons"  was  published  in  the  Ameri- 
can Journal  of  Theology.  Other  material  from  this 
book  was  used  in  an  article  published  in  the  Monist 
under  the  title  "The  Psychological  Basis  of  Religion." 

I  wish  particularly  to  acknowledge  my  very  great 
indebtedness  to  my  colleagues,  Professor  James  H. 
Tufts  and  Professor  William  I.  Thomas,  not  only  for 
suggestions  from  their  published  works,  but  for  criti- 

viii 


PREFACE 

cisms  and  assistance  in  various  ways  during  the  pro- 
gress of  this  investigation.  I  have  also  much  for  which 
to  thank  those  students  who  have  worked  with  me  in 
this  field  in  the  past  six  years.  Acknowledgment  is 
also  made  of  the  valuable  services  of  Dr.  Ella  H. 
Stokes,  who  has  read  the  proof-sheets  and  prepared 
the  index, 

Edward  Scribner  Ames. 

The  University  of  Chicago, 
August  1,  1910. 


CONTENTS 


PART  I.     HISTORY  AND  METHOD  OF  THE  PSYCHO- 
LOGY OF  RELIGION 

I.  The  History  of  the  Science 3 

n.  The  Psychological  Standpoint 15 

PART  II.    THE  ORIGIN  OF  RELIGION  IN  THE  RACE 

III.  The  Deteejmining  Impulses  in  Primitive  Religion      .  33 

IV.  Custom  and  Taboo 51 

V.  Ceeemonla.ls  and  IMagic 71 

VI.  Spirits 95 

VII.  Sacrifice 116 

Vni.  Prayer 134 

IX.  Mythology 149 

X.  The  Development  of  Religion .    ,    .  168 

PART    m.     THE    RISE    OF    RELIGION  IN  THE  INDI- 
VIDUAL 

XL   Religion  and  Childhood 197 

Xn.  Religion  and  Adolescence 214 

XIII.  Normal  Religious  Development 236 

XIV.  Conversion 257 

xi 


CONTENTS 

PART  rv.  THE  PLACE  OF  RELIGION  IN  THE  EX- 
PERIENCE OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND 
SOCIETY 

XV.  Religion  as  involving  the  Entire  Psychical  Life  .  279 

XVI.   Ideas  and  Religious  Experience 303 

X^TI.   Feeling  and  Religious  Experience 321 

XVIII.   The  Psychology  of  Religious  Genius  and  Inspiration  338 

XIX.  Nonreligious  Persons 355 

XX.  The  Psychology  of  Religious  Sects 377 

XXL   The  Religious  Consciousness  in  Relation  to  Demo- 

CRACY  AND   SciENCE 396 

Index ^^^ 


PART  I 

HISTORY   AND   METHOD   OF   THE    PSYCHOLOGY 

OF   RELIGION 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   HISTORY   OF   THE   SCIENCE 

The  Psychology  of  Religion,  if  it  may  be  dated  from 
the  first  books  published  under  this  title,  appeared 
as  a  distinct  subject  of  investigation  only  ten  years 
ago,  with  the  pioneer  volumes  of  Starbuck  and  Coe.^ 
Each  of  these  authors  distinctly  states  that  the  inves- 
tigations were  prompted  both  by  scientific  and  by 
religious  interests.  They  shared  the  new  scientific 
impulse  which  was  extending  to  all  aspects  of  individ- 
ual and  social  mental  life.  The  whole  science  of  psy- 
chology, under  the  lead  of  the  biological  sciences,  was 
then  undergoing  a  complete  reconstruction,  which  still 
continues.  It  was  inevitable  that  the  extensive  areas 
of  experience  organized  in  the  religious  consciousness 
should  ultimately  yield  themselves,  however  reluc- 
tantly, to  a  most  fundamental  reconsideration.  The 
very  attitude  of  sensitiveness  and  reserve  with  which 
these  phenomena  seemingly  withheld  themselves  from 
the  methods  everywhere  else  employed  added  inten- 
sity of  interest  to  their  study  when  it  was  begun.  The 
characteristic  eagerness  of  science  to  discover  and 
treat  all  the  facts  of  experience  could  not  be  abated 
by  the  feeling  that  this  set  of  facts  was  guarded  by 
peculiar  claims  and  by  keen  emotional  resistance. 

^  A  valuable  history  of  the  beginnings  of  this  science  is  contained  in  a 
paper  by  James  Bissett  Pratt,  "  The  Psychology  of  Religion,"  Harvard 
Theological  Review,  vol.  i,  1908. 

3 


.PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

.:  -•:  ;'-.T]iis. demand  for  scientific  thoroughness  was  rein- 
forced' by  the  assumption  of  the  unity  of  the  mental 
Hfe,  and  it  was  of  the  utmost  significance  to  deter- 
mine whether  this  postulate,  already  so  widely  justi- 
fied, could  be  maintained  with  reference  to  rehgious 
knowledge  and  faith.  Besides,  there  was  a  growing 
conviction,  now  well  substantiated,  that  many  facts 
of  religious  experience  might  aftord  assistance  in 
understanding  the  typical  processes  treated  by  gen- 
eral psychology,  such  as  those  of  habit,  attention,  and 
emotion,  both  in  normal  and  in  abnormal  forms. 

The  rehgious  incentive  was  of  a  more  immediately 
practical  character.  Those  interested  in  propagating 
religion,  whether  by  education  or  evangehsm,  began 
to  realize  the  necessity  of  understanding  the  psycho- 
logical processes  in  order  to  control  and  direct  them. 
Professor  Coe  expressed  this  in  the  preface  to  "The 
Spiritual  Life,"  in  these  words:  "There  is  reason  for 
doubting  whether  even  the  spiritual  teachers  and 
guides  of  the  people  really  grasp  the  mental  processes 
with  which  they  have  to  deal  —  the  evident  decay  of 
the  revival,  the  alienation  from  the  Church  of  whole 
classes  of  the  population,  the  excess  of  women  over 
men  in  Church  life,  the  apparent  powerlessness  of 
organized  religion  to  suppress  or  seriously  check  the 
great  organized  vices  and  injustices  of  society,  the  fail- 
ure of  the  Sunday-School  to  make  the  people  or  even 
its  own  pupils  familiar  with  the  contents  of  the  Bible 
—  these  facts  ought  to  raise  a  question  as  to  what, 
among  the  matters  upon  which  we  have  laid  stress, 
is  really  practical  and  what  mere  ignorant  blunder- 


ing." 


4 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  SCIENCE 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  striking  illus- 
tration of  the  way  in  which  scientific  research  is 
ultimately  motivated  and  occasioned  by  practical 
interests.  The  utilitarian  impulse  in  these  first  publi- 
cations is  also  clear  in  the  particular  problems  treated 
and  in  the  scope  of  their  inquiry.  They  deal  chiefly, 
almost  exclusively,  with  conversion,  taking  that  term 
in  its  broadest  sense.  It  is  in  this  process  of  con- 
version that  the  whole  task  of  Protestant  Christian- 
ity has  been  felt  to  focus.  The  work  of  the  Church 
has  been  conceived  to  be  that  of  making  converts. 
Therefore,  the  understanding  of  this  process  with  a 
view  to  controlling  it  successfully  among  all  classes 
attains  first  importance.  The  question  of  methods  in 
religious  work  turns  upon  the  psychology  of  religious 
experience.  The  relative  value  of  revivalism,  and  of 
religious  education,  depends  upon  the  comparative 
significance  of  the  different  types  of  conversion  and 
upon  the  means  by  which  they  are  occasioned.  The 
demand  of  the  Church,  under  an  increasing  realiza- 
tion of  tension  between  it  and  many  developments 
of  modern  society,  has  been  for  a  more  efficient 
method  of  winning  its  ow^n  children  and  securing 
recruits  from  the  "world."  The  other  functions  of 
religion,  in  evangelical  churches  at  least,  appear  to 
presuppose  this  "experience,"  and  consequently  it 
has  been  the  centre  of  attention.  Investigations  have 
also  been  made  with  reference  to  such  problems  as 
the  nature  of  faith,  prayer,  revelations,  and  mystical 
states. 

Another  and  broader  demand  for  the  aid  of  psy- 
chology in  dealing  with  religion  has  grown  up  with 

5 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  work  of  the  historians  and  anthropologists.  Com- 
parative religion  has  brought  to  attention  a  great 
variety  of  faiths,  often  with  elaborate  ritual,  theology, 
and  sacred  books.  Various  theories  of  their  origin,  in- 
terdependence, and  relation  to  Christianity  have  been 
advanced.  The  application  of  the  principles  of  his- 
torical development  to  these  diverse  religions  has  led 
to  the  study  of  their  earliest  forms,  and  to  the  demand 
for  a  knowledge  of  their  origins.  Here  anthropology 
has  taken  up  the  task  in  connection  with  the  whole 
problem  of  the  beginnings  of  human  social  interests, 
customs,  morality,  and  art.  But  the  data  furnished  by 
this  science,  while  affording  much  indispensable  ma- 
terial, have  yet  required  the  aid  of  psychology  in  their 
interpretation.  The  remains  of  early  peoples  and  the 
customs  of  existing  natural  races  afford  some  problems 
which  the  psychologist  alone  is  prepared  to  consider. 
Along  with  other  inquiries  concerning  this  complex 
life  of  the  race,  it  is  natural  that  there  should  be  under- 
taken a  psychological  study  of  the  origin  and  char- 
acter of  religion  and  religious  institutions.  And  it 
was  this  interest  in  something  beyond  the  range  of  his- 
tory and  anthropology  which  contributed  to  the  rise 
of  the  psychology  of  religion.  This  fact  is  expressly 
stated  by  Professor  Morris  Jastrow  in  "The  Study  of 
Religion":  "In  order  to  trace  its  history,  to  lay  bare 
its  doctrines,  to  examine  its  ethical  principles,  and  to 
investigate  its  myths,  a  consistent  application  of  his- 
torical methods  is  all  that  is  required;  but  when  w^e 
proceed  further  and  endeavor  to  determine  the  causes 
of  its  growth,  to  penetrate  to  the  secret  of  its  influ- 
ence and  to  account  for  its  decline,  historical  research 

6 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  SCIENCE 

needs   to   be  supplemented   by   a  study  of  human 
nature."  ^ 

Among  the  typical  problems  which  emerge  for  psy- 
chology from  the  results  of  historical  and  anthropolo- 
gical research  are  those  of  the  nature  and  scope  of  cus- 
tom, or  social  habit,  in  early  society,  and  the  relation 
to  custom  of  ritual,  sacrifice,  prayer,  taboo,  magic,  and 
myth.  In  connection  with  these  habitual  reactions, 
involved  with  the  maintenance  and  furtherance  of  the 
life-process,  much  light  is  shed  upon  the  nature  of  ani- 
mism, fetishism,  and  other  theories  of  primitive  reli- 
gion. The  striking  uniformity  of  early  man's  attitudes, 
together  with  a  diversity  in  the  content  and  formal  ex- 
pression of  his  experience,  offers  a  psychological  prob- 
lem of  the  greatest  importance.  Something  more  is 
required  here  than  the  naive  assumption  of  the  an- 
cients that  it  is  natural  and  necessary  that  all  peoples 
have  their  own  religions,  or  the  equally  unreasoned 
attitude  of  certain  developed,  aggressive  religions,  that 
all  peoples  have  their  own  religions,  but  that  all  are 
utterly  false  or  merely  poor  imitations  except  the 
one  aggressive  religion  itself.  The  great  number  of 
independent  religions  which  historical  and  compara- 
tive study  have  made  known  raise  the  questions  for  the 
psychologist :  How  did  religion  arise  in  the  race  "^  What 
are  the  psychological  grounds  of  the  differences  and 
likenesses  which  exist  ? 

From  still  another  side  there  is  a  demand  for  a  scien- 
tific psychologj^  of  religion.  The  philosophy  of  religion 
and  the  related  fields  of  theology  and  apologetics  are 
forced  to  deal  with  such  topics  as  inspiration,  faith, 
.     1  Morris  Jastrow,  The  Study  oj  Religion,  p.  273. 

7 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

kno^Yledge,  the  nature  of  the  soul,  personaKty,  reli- 
gious genius,  and  the  significance  of  such  conceptions 
as  God,  free  will,  the  world,  evil.  All  these  questions 
involve  the  consideration  of  psychological  processes, 
the  treatment  of  which  becomes  a  necessary  stage  in 
any  adequate  philosophical  discussion  of  religion.  The 
conflicting  points  of  view,  the  partial  and  unsatisfying 
nature  of  the  various  attempts  to  attain  a  philosophy 
of  religion,  force  the  inquiry  back  again  and  again  to 
a  reckoning  with  the  results  and  standpoints  presented 
by  the  rapidly  growing  science  of  psychology.  This  is 
characteristic  even  of  those  systems  of  thought  which 
make  a  radical  distinction  between  the  scientific 
method  with  which  psychology  works  and  the  philo- 
sophical apprehension  and  statement  of  truth.  The 
value  of  psychology  is  necessarily  felt  to  be  much 
greater  where  the  metaphysical  and  ethical  problems 
are  held  to  be  simply  the  further  elaboration  and  ex- 
plication of  certain  psychological  problems. 

A  survey  of  the  philosophy  of  religion  abundantly 
illustrates  the  inevitable  return  to  psychological  prob- 
lems, just  as  the  course  of  philosophy  itself  has  been 
marked  by  an  increasing  regard  for  the  underlying 
facts  concerning  the  states  and  functions  of  conscious- 
ness. Schleiermacher  made  religion  a  matter  of  feel- 
ing. With  Hegel  it  was  intellectual.  Ritschl  and  Kant 
renewed  emphasis  upon  the  difference  between  the 
theoretical  and  the  practical  reason.  The  religious 
consciousness  is  here  entirely  separated  from  the  sphere 
of  knowledge,  and  has  to  do  exclusively  with  value 
judgments.  The  "Outline  of  the  Philosophy  of  Reli- 
gion," by  Auguste  Sabatier,  attempts  to  make  a  psy- 

8 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  SCIENCE 

chologlcal  justification  of  the  God-consciousness  over 
against  both  the  theoretical  and  practical  phases  of 
experience.  The  human  spirit  posits  God  by  an  act  of 
faith.  Spiritual  truths  are  apprehended  by  the  heart. 
They  do  not  need  and  do  not  permit  of  any  objective 
demonstration.  "To  the  man  without  piety  it  would 
be  useless,  to  the  man  who  is  pious  it  would  be  super- 
fluous." Here,  then,  there  is  an  attempt  to  base  reli- 
gion upon  a  faculty  or  disposition  which  is  distinct  from 
the  theoretical  and  the  practical  interests,  and  yet  is 
able  to  mediate  in  some  way  between  them.  The  justi- 
fication of  such  a  position  very  obviously  depends 
directly  upon  the  results  of  psychology. 

More  recently,  the  necessity  of  taking  the  perplexi- 
ties of  the  philosopher  to  the  psychologist  has  been 
emphasized  by  Professor  William  James  and  Professor 
Harold  Hoffding.  The  former,  in  his  "Varieties  of 
Religious  Experience,"  has  combated  the  intellectu- 
alists  in  religion,  and  has  been  interpreted  to  stand 
for  a  kind  of  mysticism.  Professor  Starbuck  and  Pro- 
fessor Pratt  have  undertaken  to  extend  the  position 
of  Professor  James  to  the  point  of  making  feeling 
an  independent  source  of  experience  in  relation  to 
extra-mundane  realities.  In  the  extension  thus  given 
it,  Professor  James's  view  is  not  acceptable  to  many 
psychologists,  even  of  the  pragmatic  type,  but  it  has 
greatly  aided  in  making  it  clear  that  the  real  prob- 
lems of  the  philosophy  of  religion  arise  in  the  field 
of  psychology,  and  are  to  be  understood,  if  not  solved, 
by  the  methods  of  that  science. 

In  the  work  of  Professor  Hoffding  this  relation  is 
even  more  evident,  since  here  philosophy  is  seensearch- 

9 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ing  for  its  psychological  grounds.  *'Even  if  we  learn 
nothing  else  from  our  study  of  the  philosophy  of  reli- 
gion, it  may  serve  to  enlighten  us  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  struggle  which  rages  round  the  religious  question, 
and  to  give  us  some  insight  into  the  significance  of  this 
struggle  in  the  development  of  the  spiritual  life;  while, 
should  the  religious  problem  prove  insoluble,  we  may 
perhaps  discover  why  it  is  that  no  solution  can  be 
found."  The  central  problem  here  is  the  psychologi- 
cal problem  concerning  the  nature  and  the  significance 
of  religious  ideas,  and  whether,  if  they  lose  their  value 
as  knowledge,  they  may  still  retain  importance  in 
other  aspects  of  experience,  such  as  may  be  involved 
in  the  conservation  of  value. 

The  development  of  the  central  problems  of  the 
psychology  of  religion  may  also  be  traced  in  the  vari- 
ous definitions  of  religion  which  different  thinkers  have 
advanced.  It  is  significant  that  the  reflective  and  sell^ 
conscious  attitude  in  which  careful  definition  is  sought 
did  not  appear  with  reference  to  religion  until  very 
modern  times.  In  the  ancient  world,  religion  was  taken 
for  granted.  So  also  were  its  various  forms.  Each 
nation  had  its  own  gods,  temples,  and  festivals.  Dif- 
ferences in  religion  were  accepted  in  the  same  way 
as  differences  in  language  or  dress.  This  was  true  not 
only  of  the  tolerant  and  pliable  Greeks,  but  also  of 
the  strenuous  Hebrews.  The  latter,  in  the  best  of  their 
prophets,  did  indeed  present  vivid  comparisons  of  the 
superior  power  and  goodness  of  their  religion,  but 
they  did  not  attain  any  reflective  or  philosophical  con- 
sciousness of  the  nature  of  religion  itself.  At  times 
they  separated  sharply  certain  observances,  such  as 

10 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  SCIENCE 

animal  sacrifice,  from  the  more  refined  and  ideal  wor- 
ship of  Jehovah.  But  these  reflections  were  of  a  con- 
crete, practical  character,  within  the  accepted  forms 
of  the  social  tradition,  and  did  not  result  in  distinguish- 
ing religion  from  the  political  or  domestic  life.  In  the 
later  Hebrew  as  in  nearly  the  whole  Christian  period, 
the  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  one  religion  and  the 
falseness  of  all  others  was  taken  in  a  complacent  way, 
which  could  not  arouse  interest  in  the  intrinsic  nature 
of  religious  experience. 

It  was  perhaps  the  Deists  and  Skeptics  of  the  sev- 
enteenth and  eighteenth  centuries  who  first  attained 
a  critical  judgment  concerning  the  religious  problem. 
And  it  was  Lessing  who  made  the  significant  observa- 
tion that  the  Bible  contains  religion,  but  that  the  foun- 
dations of  faith  must  be  sought  in  the  human  mind 
and  in  the  human  heart.  The  various  positive  reli- 
gions he  regarded  as  upward  stages  in  the  education 
of  mankind.  In  his  drama,  *' Nathan  the  Wise,"  he 
brings  together  the  Jew,  Christian,  and  Mohammedan 
to  illustrate  his  view  that  religion  has  as  many  different 
forms  and  grades  as  human  culture  itself. 

In  the  great  intellectual  awakening  which  followed, 
religion  came  to  be  treated,  as  were  other  phases  of 
human  experience,  with  increasing  consciousness  and 
reflective  analysis.  It  was  natural  that  the  definitions 
of  religion  which  resulted  should  bear  the  marks  of  the 
philosophical  standpoints  of  their  authors.  With  the 
development  of  scientific  thought,  the  more  objective 
and  descriptive  treatment  which  belongs  to  the  true 
science  of  religion  was  attained.  Kant,  for  example," 
defines  religion  as  "a  knowledge  of  all  our  duties  as 

11 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

divine  commands";  Schleiermacher,  as  "a  feeling  of 
absolute  dependence";  Hegel,  as  "the  knowledge  pos- 
sessed by  the  finite  mind  of  its  nature  as  absolute 
mind." 

During  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  a 
more  inductive  and  empirical  method  prevailed  in 
science  and  philosophy,  which  has  had  profound  sig- 
nificance for  the  understanding  and  interpretation  of 
religious  phenomena.  Herbert  Spencer  collated  many 
facts  concerning  the  religious  ceremonies  and  beliefs 
of  various  natural  races,  advancing  sociological  and 
psychological  principles  to  explain  them.  The  defini- 
tion of  the  anthropologist,  Tylor,  is  still  more  directly 
drawn  from  intimate  knowledge  of  the  race  in  all 
stages  of  development.  He  gives  as  the  minimum  defi- 
nition of  religion,  "the  belief  in  Spiritual  Beings." 
Even  here,  however,  there  remains  in  the  word  "be- 
lief" a  trace  of  that  speculative  and  intellectualistic 
bias  which  has  been  a  veil  over  the  eyes  of  many  schol- 
ars. Professor  William  James  was  the  first  to  point 
out  clearly  the  partiality  and  abstractness  in  the  defi- 
nitions of  religion.  "Religion"  is  for  him  a  collective 
name  like  "government,"  and  therefore  does  not  sig- 
nify any  one  specific  thing,  but  comprehends  many 
activities,  beliefs,  and  sentiments.  "As  there  thus 
seems  to  be  no  one  elementary  religious  emotion,  but 
only  a  common  storehouse  of  emotions  upon  which 
religious  objects  may  draw,  so  there  might  conceivably 
also  prove  to  be  no  one  specific  and  essential  kind  of 
religious  object,  and  no  one  specific  and  essential  kind 
of  religious  act."  ^ 

'  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  26. 

12 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  SCIENCE 

This  statement  stands  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
usual,  nice  definitions.  It  is  concrete  and  comprehen- 
sive. By  contrast  with  it,  the  familiar  definitions 
seem  narrow  or  vague.  The  latter  seem  to  justify  the 
remark  of  one  writer  that  "the  definition  of  religion  is 
a  matter  of  taste."  It  is  at  least  a  matter  of  one's  point 
of  view.  The  advantage  of  such  a  statement  as  that  of 
Professor  James  is  that  it  allows  for  precisely  this  vari- 
ation in  the  ways  of  conceiving  religion.  The  search 
for  a  definition  of  a  profoundly  complex  process  al- 
ways ends  in  such  a  tentative,  flexible  statement.  It 
involves  recognition  of  the  living  reality  of  experience, 
and  results  in  a  modest  effort  to  describe  it,  to  analyze 
it,  and  to  gain  certain  explanations  concerning  particu- 
lar features  and  stages  of  it.  In  other  words,  the  science 
of  the  psychology  of  religion  proceeds  in  the  same  way 
as  does  the  science  of  psychology  itself.  The  latter  no 
longer  troubles  itself  concerning  a  definition  of  con- 
sciousness, but  simply  seeks  to  discover  the  stages  of 
growth,  the  various  types  of  reaction  to  different  ob- 
jects and  situations,  and  the  functions  of  the  mental 
life.  The  psychologist  of  religion  accepts  the  facts  of 
religion,  the  temples  and  priests,  the  sacred  books  and 
ceremonies,  the  faiths  and  customs  which  exist  in  such 
profusion  throughout  the  world.  He  seeks  to  know  the 
needs,  impulses,  and  desires  from  which  these  insti- 
tutions and  activities  arise.  He  inquires  concerning 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  appear  in  the 
race  and  in  the  individual.  He  attempts  to  trace  their 
development  into  settled  institutions,  doctrines,  and 
emotions.  He  marks  the  part  they  play,  the  function 
they  perform,  in  the  experience  of  individuals  and 

13 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  society.  The  justification  for  conceiving  the  task  of 
the  psychology  of  religion  so  inclusively  lies  in  part 
in  the  general  psychological  point  of  view  outlined 
in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

A  SUFFICIENT  distinctness  now  attaches  to  differ- 
ent types  of  psychology  to  make  it  allowable,  if  not 
imperative,  to  indicate  at  the  outset  which  is  to  be 
employed.  It  is  the  intention  here  to  treat  the  phe- 
nomena of  religion  from  the  standpoint  of  functional 
psychology.  In  order  to  define  this  point  of  view  and 
"the  method  it  implies,  it  seems  advisable  to  outline 
its  main  principles. 

Functional  psychology  views  the  mental  life  (1)  as 
an  instrument  of  adaptation  by  which  the  organism 
adjusts  itself  to  the  environment;  (2)  hence  the  em- 
phasis is  upon  activities  and  processes  directed  toward 
ends  or  adjustments:  (3)  this  adjustment  to  the  phys- 
ical or  social  environment  occurs  through  the  psy- 
cho-physical organism  and  is  therefore  expressed  or 
registered  in  definite  neural  activity  and  in  various 
objective  effects.  It  is  important  to  apprehend  clearly 
these  characteristics. 

The  conception  of  the  mind  as  an  instrument  of 
adjustment  and  adaptation  is  a  biological  conception 
and  marks  the  radical  transformation  which  psycho- 
logy has  undergone  through  the  influence  of  the  science 
of  biology.  This  implies  the  general  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion. Mind  is  the  means  by  which  adaptations  occur 
in  novel  and  complex  situations,  and  is  therefore  the 
most  important  factor  in  the  survival  of  the  highest 

15 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

organisms.  This  is  more  obvious  when  it  is  under- 
stood that  instinctive  and  perceptive  processes  as  well 
as  developed  reasoning  come  within  the  conception 
of  mind.  Animal  behavior  affords  abundant  evidence 
of  the  advantages  held  by  those  species  possessing 
elaborate  and  persistent  instincts.  The  fur-seal  re- 
turns in  the  spring,  thousands  of  miles  through  the 
stormy  sea,  to  its  breeding-place.  The  female,  leaving 
her  young  on  the  shore,  goes  hundreds  of  miles  to  her 
feeding-grounds,  and  upon  her  return  after  several 
days  finds  her  own  pup  among  ten  thousand  others. 
This  serviceability  of  mind,  in  the  form  of  instinct, 
appears  in  the  migrations  of  birds,  in  their  nest-build- 
ing, and  in  their  care  of  the  young.  The  selection  of 
food  is  also  instinctive.  The  horse  will  not  eat  meat, 
nor  will  the  dog  eat  grass. 

But  the  instincts  of  lower  animals  are  limited  in 
flexibility.  It  is  in  man  that  mind  effects  preservation 
in  the  midst  of  strange  and  variable  conditions,  and 
makes  adjustments  to  larger  and  more  complex  areas 
of  nature  and  society.  Man's  conquest  of  cold  climates 
by  fire,  shelter,  and  clothing,  his  cultivation  of  the 
desert,  his  regulation  of  animal  life,  and  the  vast  num- 
ber and  ingenuity  of  his  inventions  illustrate  the 
prime  function  of  his  intelligence,  namely,  accommo- 
dation to  new  and  intricate  environments.  This  power 
of  control  is  not  present  in  man  as  a  gift  or  endow- 
ment, but  as  an  achievement.  Genetic  psychology 
traces  the  attainment  of  this  mental  power  from  its 
feeble  beginnings  in  infancy,  in  the  form  of  a  few  in- 
stinctive reactions,  up  to  the  acquirement  of  a  disci- 
plined imagination  and  efficient  volition.  In  the  func- 
]  16 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

tional  view,  consciousness  itself  emerges  as  a  phase  of 
the  response  to  difficult  and  urgent  needs  of  the  organ- 
ism. The  child  becomes  aware  of  his  rattle,  of  himself, 
and  of  the  intervening  space,  in  some  dim  measure, 
when  the  desired  rattle  is  beyond  his  reach.  It  is  the 
movement,  the  muscular  strain,  the  cry  and  call,  which 
conspire  to  bring  about  the  idea  of  the  object  and  the 
self.  The  growth  of  consciousness  in  the  adult  pro- 
ceeds in  the  same  way  in  the  endeavor  to  reach  aft. 
end,  such  as  the  invention  of  a  trap  to  catch  game,  or 
in  the  development  of  a  social  organization  for  the 
prevention  of  graft. 

Since  it  is  the  fundamental  function  of  mental  life . 

to  mediate  ends,  to  smooth  the  way  for  action,  it  is  to__ 
be  viewed  as  a  process  rather  than  a  static  fact.  It  is 
true,  as  John  Locke  contended,  that  an  idea  can  be 
understood  only  in  its  history  and  in  its  effects.  The 
idea  is  itself  a  movement  of  imagery  and  feeling.  It 
might  even  contribute  to  clearness  to  drop  the  terms 
*'idea,"  "image,"  "concept,"  and  speak  alwaj^s  of  re- 
acting, of  associating,  of  habit,  of  attending,  of  feeling, 
of  perceiving,  of  reasoning.  It  is  commonly  recog- 
nized that  perceiving  an  object  is  a  stage  in  the  use  of 
it.  To  perceive  a  tree  is  to  carry  on  a  larger  activity 
into  which  this  particular  activity  of  perceiving  is 
fitted  as  a  helping  or  hindering  process.  To  perceive 
the  tree  is  to  further  one's  journey,  the  tree  being  a 
landmark.  Or  it  is  a  phase  of  the  process  of  keeping 
up  the  camp-fire;  of  securing  fruit,  a  bee's  nest,  or  a 
squirrel.  At  another  time,  to  perceive  it  may  be  an 
activity  in  the  larger  activity  of  building  a  house,  or  of 
securing  by  the  sale  of  the  wood  funds  for  a  journey 

17 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

or  for  shriving  one's  soul.  The  perception  may  be  a 
factor  in  a  vastly  larger  and  more  complex  process,  as, 
for  example,  when  it  is  involved  in  the  esthetic  contem- 
plation of  one  interested  in  impressionistic  painting, 
or  when  it  is  the  subject  of  investigation  by  a  bot- 
anist whose  description  becomes  available  to  others 
for  various  purposes.  That  is,  the  perception  is  an  ac- 
tivity of  a  specific  sort  determined  by  what  the  object 
is  perceived  as.  The  mental  life  is  thus  at  every  point 
to  be  understood  not  by  what  it  merely  is,  but  rather 
by  what  it  does.  The  analogy  between  functional 
psychology  and  physiology  is  suggestive  here.  The 
bodily  organs  are  treated  in  physiology  in  terms  of  the 
part  they  play  in  the  life  process,  and  cannot  be  under- 
stood in  themselves,  taken  statically.  In  psychology, 
in  the  same  way,  sensations,  ideas,  memories,  and  the 
rest  are  not  taken  as  existences  which  can  be  treated 
primarily  as  to  their  own  peculiar  nature  and  seconda- 
rily as  to  their  combination  and  operation  in  experience, 
but  they  are  primarily  phases  of  a  going  life,  which 
becomes  abstract  and  artificial  when  considered  in 
piecemeal,  frozen  sections. 

A  third  characteristic  of  the  functional  psychology 
is  that  the  activity  involved  in  the  adjustment  to  ends, 
however  simple  or  complex,  practical  or  ideal,  those 
ends  may  be,  is  an  adjustment  in  the  psycho-physical 
organism.  It  is  a  mind-body  process.  The  working 
hypothesis  of  modern  psycholog;y^  is  that  of  the  corre- 
lation of  mental  states  and  bodily  states.  Ideas,  for 
example,  are  dynamic,  that  is,  they  are  incipient  activ- 
ities. This  is  illustrated  most  clearly  by  ideo-motor 
phenomena.   In  the  case  of  well-established  habits  or 

18 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

powerful  impulses,  the  presence  of  the  idea  releases 
immediately  a  set  of  movements.  The  cry  of  "fire" 
sets  off  the  nervous  mechanism  which  controls  the 
muscles,  and  the  soothing  word  "sleep"  serves  in  fa- 
vorable circumstances  to  relax  the  muscles  and  reduce 
all  the  tensions  of  the  body.  The  investigations  of 
imagery  have  made  it  clear,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
the  very  substance  of  ideas  is  gained  from  the  sensa- 
tions or  feelings  involved  in  movements  and  in  bodily 
processes.  This  imagery  may  be  of  the  visual,  tactile, 
auditory,  or  motor  type,  but  in  every  case  it  involves 
physiological  processes.  In  the  idea  of  opening  a  cer- 
tain door,  analysis  shows  that  the  idea  is  the  awaken- 
ing of  definite  sensations  of  muscular  strain,  the  partial 
reinstatement  of  actual  movement,  or  of  activities  in 
vision,  hearing,  pressure,  or  the  like.  In  more  complex 
ideas  or  concepts,  such  as  justice,  truth,  evil,  eternity, 
similar  content  always  exists.  There  is  therefore  no 
sharp  break  between  mental  and  physical  activity/^ 
between  idea  and  deed.  It  is  impossible  to  separate 
the  ideational  process  from  the  bodily  factors.  There 
is  consequently  a  pronounced  tendency  for  descrip- 
tions of  mental  process  to  eventuate  in  physiological 
or  biological  considerations.^ 

In  addition  to  these  specific  principles  of  the  func- 
tional psychology  there  are  several  important  implica- 
tions. For  one  thing,  it  puts  emphasis  upon  the  jwill. 
It  is  voluntaristic.  Ideation  and  feeling  are  secondary^ 
Activity,  directed  toward  selected  ends,  is  the  inmost 
nature  of  the  will.   The  will  appears  in  simplest  form 

*  Angell,  "The  Province  of  Functional  Psychology,"  Psycho- 
logical  Review,  March,  1907. 

19 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

in  impulses  and  instincts.  In  a  more  developed  stage 
y  it  takes  the  form  of  habits,  that  is,  of  organized  activi- 
ties which  serve  in  the  attainment  of  similar  recurring 
ends.  Again,  the  will  is  involved  in  conflicting  inter- 
ests, or  is  confused  by  a  new  situation  which  has 
not  been  encountered  before.  In  all  these  instances 
there  is  more  or  less  feeling.  The  satisfactions  may  be 
intense  which  belong  to  impulsive,  instinctive,  and 
habitual  action,  though  often  there  is  a  minimum  of 
feeling  of  any  kind,  where  the  act  is  immediately  suc- 
cessful. There  is  a  corresponding  heightening  of  emo- 
tion  where  the  tension  is  great  and  prolonged.  The 
ideational  processes,  such  as  perceiving,  remembering, 
reasoning,  are  also  most  vigorously  called  into  play 
when  the  will,  or  activity,  is  frustrated.  When  one 
is  driving  through  the  country,  the  small  stream  is 
crossed  on  the  accustomed  bridge,  with  no  thought  of 
it.  But  when  the  stream  is  swollen  and  the  safety  of 
the  bridge  is  uncertain  or  quite  impaired,  one  examines, 
tests,  and  judges  it  with  extreme  care  and  may  inquire 
for  a  larger,  stronger  bridge  at  another  place.  The 
intellectual  processes  arise  when  the  impaired  or  fal- 
tering activity  needs  them,  and  the  emotion  is  an 
accompaniment  of  the  hesitancy,  testing,  issue,  or 
inhibition  in  the  action.  The  mental  life  is  in  this 
way  approached  from  a  different  side  than  in  the  older 
rational  psychology.  There  the  question  seemed  to 
be.  What  is  pure  thought,  pure  mind,  pure  feeling  .^^ 
Functional  psychology  inquires,  What  is  the  organ- 
ism, the  mind-body,  doing,  and  what  is  the  mechanism 
by  which  it  operates  .^  In  other  words.  What  is  the 
will,  or  purposeful  activity,  accomplishing,  and  what 

SO 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

are  the  means,  such  as  instinct,  imitation,  habit,  at- 
tention, association,  perception,  and  reasoning  which 
it  employs?  The  voluntaristic  psychology  gives  a  new 
sense  of  the  depth  of  the  mental  life,  revealing  as 
it  does  the  instinctive  springs  of  action,  the  subtle 
power  of  imitation,  of  suggestion,  and  of  the  vague 
half -conscious  elements.  In  contrast  to  these,  the  clear, 
intellectual,  rational  elements,  important  as  they  are, 
appear  as  the  surface  outcroppings  of  formations 
whose  numerous  stratifications  and  vaster  masses  lie 
far  below. 

A  second  consequence  of  the  functional  psychology, 
important  for  the  present  study,  is  the  meaning  it 
gives  to  the  word  "consciousness."  The  attempt  to 
define  this  term  has  long  been  given  up  by  psycholo- 
gists, but  there  is  still  a  tendency  to  use  it  in  a  very 
general  and  abstract  sense.  David  Hume  was  perhaps 
the  first  to  realize  fully  that  there  is  no  "pure"  con- 
sciousness. He  pointed  out  that  what  one  discovers 
when  he  looks  into  himself  is  always  something  specific. 
One  is  never  just  thinking,  but  is  thinking  of  a  par- 
ticular journey  or  of  journeying,  of  the  manufacture 
of  shoes  or  of  the  habit  of  wearing  shoes.  Memory 
resolves  itself  into  memories,  perceiving  into  percep- 
tions, feeling  into  feelings.  One  cannot  merely  feel, 
but  one  may  feel  cold,  or  pain.  In  the  same  way,  con- 
sciousness is  actually  of  this  or  that  kind,  and  there  is 
no  more  a  consciousness  in  general  than  a  tree  in  gen- 
eral. Just  as  little  is  there  a  unique  art  consciousness 
which  is  not  a  consciousness  of  art  forms,  of  technique, 
or  of  subject-matter.  There  is  much  discussion  of  ethi- 
cal or  moral  consciousness,  or  religious  consciousness, 

21 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

which  seems  to  imply  that  these  are  ultimate  faculties 
or  powers,  rather  than  general  terms  for  very  concrete 
and  definite  particular  experiences. 

The  functional  psychology  here  shows  its  prag- 
matic tendencies.  Consciousness  grows.  It  is  very 
slight  in  the  infant,  somewhat  greater  in  the  child,  and 
it  may  become  relatively  vast  in  mature  age.  But  this 
growth  is  to  be  thought  of  as  an  increase  in  the  wealth 
of  particular  experiences,  in  their  diversity,  and  in  their 
organization  for  the  guidance  of  action.  One  man  may 
develop  one  kind  of  consciousness,  and  his  neighbor  a 
different  kind.  One  gives  attention  to  the  diseases  of 
the  human  body  and  their  treatment.  He  attends  lec- 
tures, observes  clinics,  serves  as  interne  in  a  hospital, 
enters  upon  active  practice,  and  thus  acquires  what 
may  be  called  a  medical  consciousness.  Another  re- 
ceives lessons  in  drawing  and  painting,  reads  the  his- 
tory of  painting,  visits  galleries,  perfects  his  own  tech- 
nique, and  gradually  attains  an  art  consciousness.  The 
second  person  may  have  little  or  no  medical  conscious- 
ness, and  the  first  person  may  have  no  art  conscious- 
^  ness.  It  depends  upon  the  run  of  attention.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  moral  and  religious  consciousness. 
Each  involves  specific  content  and  experience.  Nei- 
ther is  inevitable.  Persons  exist  without  either,  and 
each  is  attained,  if  at  all,  by  gradual  development  and 
in  degree.  Not  all  business  men  are  equally  business- 
like, and  not  all  religious  people  are  equally  religious. 
This  holds  true  from  a  practical  standpoint,  however 
religion  itself  is  defined.  It  is  no  more  a  given  endow- 
ment than  is  a  language,  and  it  is  just  as  little  im- 
possible to  normal  people.   The  extent  and  power  of 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

social  influences  over  the  individual  ordinarily  make  it 
difficult  for  any  one  to  escape  language  and  religion 
entirely,  though  in  highly  complex  modern  society 
astonishing  variations  occur. 

A  third  problem  which  the  functional  psychology 
treats  in  a  notable  way  is  that  of  the  relation  of  psy- 
chology and  philosophy.  While  psychology  may  be 
viewed  as  belonging  to  the  biological  sciences,  it  is 
also  true  that  it  stands  in  a  peculiar  relation  to  philo- 
sophy. All  schools  of  psychology  agree  in  this,  but 
they  differ  as  to  the  precise  nature  of  the  relation  which 
exists.  Functional  psychology  holds  that  the  philo- 
sophical studies  are  elaborations  of  certain  phases  of 
psychology.  For  example,  ethics  deals  with  the  nature 
of  the  will  and  the  methods  of  its  control  and  devel- 
opment. But  this  is  precisely  the  inquiry  which 
the  psychology  of  volition  undertakes,  in  the  analy- 
sis of  impulse,  desire,  choice,  habit,  and  character. 
Ethics  simply  makes  these  its  chief  concern,  and  puts 
the  problems  into  the  perspective  of  human  history 
and  of  social  relations.  The  question  of  the  standard  of 
conduct,  whether  it  is  conceived  as  hedonistic,  ration- 
alistic, or  as  utilitarian  self-realization,  starts  with  the 
nature  of  desire  and  cannot  transcend  it.  Likewise  the 
problem  of  the  organization  of  personal  activity  into 
a  hierarchy  of  interests  or  selves  is  to  the  last  degree 
a  psychological  problem.  This  does  not  mean  a  con- 
fusion of  psychology  and  ethics,  but  it  frankly  admits 
that  ethics  is  a  specialized  and  elaborated  psycholo- 
gical inquiry.  Casual  comparison  of  the  introduc- 
tory chapters  of  texts  on  ethics  with  the  chapters  of 
a  standard  text  in  psychology  on  desire  and  volition 

23 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

will  illustrate  all  that  is  here  asserted.  Similar  state- 
ments are  applicable  to  esthetics. 

It  is,  however,  in  the  relation  of  psychology  and 
logic  that  the  functional  view  is  at  once  most  obvious 
and  most  consequential.  It  is  often  contended  that 
psychology  investigates  the  intellectual  processes  sim- 
ply to  see  what  they  are,  while  logic,  dealing  with  the 
same  phenomena,  occupies  itself  with  the  further  prob- 
lem of  their  truth  or  falsehood.  Professor  Angell  has 
shown  ^  that  this  distinction  is  not  radical,  and  that 
the  functional  psychology  of  reasoning  and  logic  are 
essentially  identical.  They  are  one  in  treating  ideation 
in  reference  to  practical  activity.  Psychology''  insists 
that  the  movement  of  interest  and  action  in  which  an 
idea  occurs,  throws  light  upon  its  nature.  Apart  from 
'  such  a  setting  it  has  no  meaning.  Any  existence  at- 
,  tributed  to  an  isolated  or  detached  idea  involves  the 
•height  of  abstraction.  The  real  ideas  are  bathed  in 
the  full  stream  of  concrete  experience,  and  retain  the 
quality  of  life  only  so  long  as  they  are  saturated  and 
dripping  with  its  waters.  It  is  the  function  of  the  idea 
to  mediate  and  to  adapt.  It  points  onward  to  ends. 
This  characteristic  of  ideation  is  precisely  the  prob- 
lem of  logic.  Even  the  old  formal  logic  did  not  make  all 
its  tests  of  truth  just  within  the  ideas  themselves.  Its 
ultimate  reference  was  to  the  objective  world  of  prac- 
tical experience.  This  is  still  truer  of  modern  inductive 
logic,  which  through  modern  science  has  been  directly 
concerned  with  the  discovery  and  control  of  concrete 
conditions.    It  has  sought  to  understand  the  actual 

1  Angell,  "  The  Province  of  Functional  Psychology,"  Psychological 
Review,  March,  1907. 

24 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

workings  of  the  mind  in  attaining  practical  results. 
The  analysis  and  descriptions  of  these  mental  opera- 
tions form  alike  the  substance  of  important  chapters 
in  the  texts  of  both  psychology  and  logic.  The  books 
on  logic  simply  select  parts  of  the  whole  field  of  psy- 
chology, namely,  the  cognitive  processes,  and  proceed 
to  give  them  a  more  elaborate  treatment  and  to  de- 
velop special  problems. 

The  distinction  between  psychology  and  ethics  or 
esthetics  is  similarly  provisional.  It  is  justifiable  as  a 
convenient  device  for  indicating  the  differentiation  of 
the  whole  field,  but  if  ^taken  as  anything  more  ulti- 
mate, it  becomes  misleading.  The  texts  often  make 
much  of  the  fact  that  psychology  is  a  natural  science, 
while  the  others  are  normative  sciences.  But  it  is  in- 
teresting to  see  that  the  author  is  usually  careful  to 
insist  that  by  normative  he  means  not  primarily  the 
application  of  the  norm,  but  merely  its  discovery  and 
the  recognition  of  its  function.  In  this  sense  it  deals 
with  what  is  and  only  secondarily  with  what  ought 
to  be.  The  difference  is  then  quite  eliminated,  for 
psychology  treats  in  the  same  way  of  ideals  or  norms, 
their  function,  and  their  fruitfulness  in  experience. 

This  conception  of  psychology  extends  still  further 
and  includes  a  vital  and  determining  relation  to  episte- 
mology  and  metaphysics.  Epistemology  as  theory 
of  knowledge  involves,  like  logic,  a  consideration  of 
the  nature  of  the  cognitive  processes  and  their  value 
in  attaining  truth  and  escaping  error.  Indeed,  it  be- 
comes increasingly  clear  that  the  problems  of  episte- 
mology are  precisely  the  problems  of  logic,  just  as 
these  in  turn  are  the  problems  of  a  developed  func-- 

25 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tional  psychology.  The  same  is  also  true  concerning 
metaphysics.  If  this  is  regarded  as  the  science  of  real- 
ity, it  does  not  thereby  escape  from  the  fact  that  it  is 
bound  up  with  knowledge  and  therefore  with  logic. 
In  attempting  to  understand  the  nature  and  function 
of  consciousness,  we  are  inevitably  plunged  into  the 
consideration  of  the  nature  of  reality,  not  indeed  as 
something  over  against  consciousness,  but  as  involved 
in  the  knowledge  process  itself.  The  thoroughgoing 
functional,  or  pragmatic  view  tends  in  this  way  to  ob- 
viate many  of  the  sharp  oppositions  between  psycho- 
logy and  philosophy,  and  between  special  philosophi- 
cal disciplines  such  as  epistemology  and  metaphysics. 
This  conception  of  the  central  importance  of  psy- 
chology has  important  consequences  in  the  sphere  of 
religious  thought.  The  psychology  of  religious  experi- 
ence becomes  the  conditioning  science  for  the  various 
branches  of  theology,  or  rather,  it  is  the  science  which 
in  its  developed  forms  becomes  theology  or  the  philo- 
sophy of  religion.  If  reality  is  given  in  experience 
(and  where  else  could  it  be  given?)  then  the  science  of 
that  experience  furnishes  the  reasonable  and  fruitful 
method  of  dealing  with  reality,  including  the  reality 
of  religion.  The  psychology  of  religion  possesses,  there- 
fore, the  greatest  possible  significance.  It  does  not 
merely  prepare  the  way  for  theology,  but  in  its  most 
elementary  inquiries,  it  is  already  dealing  with  essen- 
tials of  theology  and  the  philosophy  of  religion.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  philosophy  of  religion  in  its  most 
ultimate  problems  and  refined  developments  does  not 
transcend  the  principles  of  psychology.  The  idea  of 
God,  for  example,  "which  is  the  central  conception  of 

26 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STANDPOINT 

theology,  is  subject  to  the  same  laws  of  the  mental  life 
as  are  all  other  ideas,  and  there  is  but  one  science  of 
psychology  applicable  to  it.   Modern  psychology  .em'— 
phasizes  the  fundamental  unity  of  mental  lifei__The_ 


psychology  of  religion  is  only  the  application  of  the 
principles  of  the  one  science  of  psychology  to  religious 
experience.  It  does  not  limit  itself  to  certain  phe- 
nomena, such  as  emotion,  or  to  the  working  of  par- 
ticular "faculties"  or  instincts,  but  attempts  to  deal 
vitally  with  the  totality  of  human  nature  as  involved 
in  religion,  and  with  every  stage  of  the  religious  de- 
velopment. 

Further,  it  has  been  pointed  out  that  the  functional 
psychology  employs  the  genetic  and  historical  method. 
This  may  be  illustrated  by  the  way  in  which  the  his- 
tory of  religion  is  employed  in  working  out  the  psy- 
chology of  religion.  The  illustration  will  serve  at  once 
to  emphasize  the  general  conception  of  the  functional 
psychology  and  to  introduce  the  discussion  in  the  suc- 
ceeding chapters.  The  history  of  religion  is  employed 
in  working  out  the  psychology  of  religion  in  order  to 
present  these  psychical  states  and  processes  in  their 
concrete  setting.  If  ideas  and  emotions  are  vitally  re- 
lated to  practical  interests,  a  knowledge  of  those  prac- 
tical interests  should  aid  in  understanding  the  ideas 
and  emotions.  In  seeking  to  appreciate  the  mental 
life  of  primitive  peoples,  it  is  necessary  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  general  conditions  under  which  they  live. 
In  a  sense,  the  outward,  objective  life  of  primitive 
people  is  preeminently  important,  since  they  are  con- 
stantly occupied  with  it,  and  are  relatively  little  given 
to  introspective  and  subjectively  complicated  reflec- 

27 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tion.  Their  mentality  is  more  overt  and  is  therefore 
more  clearly  expressed  in  bodily  habits  and  reactions 
than  is  true  of  more  highly  developed,  complex  minds. 

The  early  stages  of  religion  are  also  valuable  for  the 
understanding  of  religion  because  of  their  relative  sim- 
plicitj^  and  because  of  the  course  of  development  which 
they  present.  The  following  statement  concerning  the 
advantage  of  studj^ing  morality  in  its  earlier  stages  ap- 
plies equally  to  religion:  "History  gives  us  these  facts 
in  process  of  becoming  or  generation ;  the  earlier  terms 
of  the  series  provide  us  with  a  simplification  which  is 
the  counterpart  of  isolation  in  physical  experiment; 
each  successive  later  term  answers  the  purpose  of  syn- 
thetic recombination  under  increasingly  complex  con- 
ditions." * 

These  early  forms  of  religion  are  not  more  impor- 
tant than  later  stages.  They  are  not  of  greater  value 
merely  because  they  are  primitive.  Their  importance 
consists  partly  in  the  fact  that  they  are  simpler  and 
therefore  more  easily  understood,  just  as  the  mind  of 
the  child  shows  in  simpler  form  the  workings  of  atten- 
tion and  association  which  in  mature  life  become 
highly  complicated  and  hidden.  The  ground  patterns 
of  interest,  elicited  by  reactions  to  the  natural  environ- 
ment under  the  pressure  of  hunger  and  other  dangers 
of  pain  and  extinction,  remain  essentially  unchanged. 

1  John  Dewey,  "The  Evolutionary  Method  as  Applied  toMorahty," 
Philosophical  Review,  vol.  xi,  1902,  pp.  123  f.  Cf.  William  James,  Varie- 
ties of  Religious  Experimce,  p.  382:  "Phenomena  are  best  understood 
when  placed  within  their  series,  studied  in  their  germ  and  in  their  over- 
ripe decay,  and  compared  with  their  exaggerated  and  degenerated  kin- 
dred." 

28 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL   STANDPOINT 

The  objects  which  satisfy  hunger  may  be  multiplied 
and  the  protection  and  guarantee  of  life  may  be 
greatly  increased,  but  the  general  process  of  adaptar_ 
lion  to  the  world  in  which  man  lives  has  not  been  fun- 
damentally altered.  The  quest  for  food  may  call  into 
play  new  weapons  and  inventions,  it  may  accumulate 
supDlies  beyond  immediate  necessities,  and  it  may 
become  refined,  but  it  is  still  a  quest  for  food.  Even 
under  the  conditions  of  a  complex  society,  it  operates 
by  energy  and  cunning,  by  swiftness  and  prudence. 
But  the  importance  of  the  early  stages  of  mental  de- 
velopment consists  chiefly  in  making  clear  the  pro- 
cesses through  which  the  differentiation  of  conscious- 
ness arises,  the  course  by  which  they  move  forward, 
and  the  relations  which  the  various  aspects  bear  to  one 
another.  It  is  by  taking  wide  surveys  of  these  phe- 
nomena as  they  appear  in  different  races  that  one  may 
be  able  to  dissociate  the  permanent  principles  of 
religion  from  its  accidental  content,  and  gain  a  per- 
spective in  which  the  developed,  historical  religions 
may  be  interpreted.  Thus  may  be  ascertained  the 
moving  impulses  of  religious  ceremonials,  the  nature 
of  the  ideas  which  accompany  them,  and  the  effects~To 
which  they  give  rise. 


PART  II 

THE   ORIGIN   OF   RELIGION   IN  THE   RACE 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   DETERMINING   IMPULSES   IN   PRIMITIVE   RELIGION 

It  is  generally  recognized  that  in  primitive  life  reli- 
gion was  a  matter  of  social  custom.  The  fact  that  the 
individual  had  not  emerged  from  the  tribal  conscious- 
ness has  been  reiterated  to  the  point  of  exaggeration, 
and  the  assumption  of  social  solidarity  may  be  made 
here  without  argument.^  It  is  also  unnecessary  to 
prove  again  that  what  have  come  to  be  known  as  the 
religious  observances  of  primitive  peoples  were  con- 
cerned with  all  the  vital  interests  of  the  social  group. 
It  is  difficult,  and  in  fact  quite  impossible,  to  distin- 
guish sharply  and  finally  in  primitive  life  between 
law,  morality,  art,  and  religion.  The  conditions  were 
relatively  simple  and  undifferentiated.  Social  life 
was  more  nearly  a  single  process  than  it  is  in  advanced 
stages,  and  therefore  it  reveals  with  greater  clearness 
the  working  of  the  fundamental  life  impulses  in  the 
whole  social  fabric.  It  is  the  task  of  this  chapter  to 
consider  these  original  driving  impulses  which  result 
in  social  customs  and  institutions. 

Food  and  sex  are  the  great  interests  of  the  individual, 
and  of  society.  These  may  work  out  in  various  second- 
ary forms,  but  the  "ground  patterns  "  of  man's  life  are 
determined  by  these  two  elemental  forces.   The  very 
existence  of  the  individual  depends  upon  his  food.  He 

1  Warner  Fite,  "The  Exaggeration  of  the  Social,"  Journal  of  Philo- 
sophy, Psychology,  and  Scientific  Methods,  vol.  iv,  1907,  p.  393. 

33 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

must  satisfy  his  hunger  at  all  costs,  and  the  perpetua- 
tion of  the  race  rests  upon  the  individual's  sex  instinct. 
The  absorbing  human  interests,  even  in  leisure  and 
contemplation,  in  art  and  religion,  are  those  of  secur- 
ing a  livelihood  and  those  which  spring  from  the  love 
of  woman,  including  the  protection  and  care  of  chil- 
dren. These  basal  instincts  are  so  characteristic  of 
the  whole  range  of  sentient  life  preceding  man  and 
now  existing  below  him  in  the  biological  scale,  that  it 
involves  no  daring  assumption  to  infer  that  he  pos- 
sessed them  from  the  most  rudimentary  stage  of  his 
jexistence.  Complexities  of  custom,  law,  art,  religion, 
and  science  which  have  sprung  from  these  roots  in  the 
deep  soil  of  human  nature  have  required  vast  periods 
of  time  and  the  high  pressure  of  dire  necessity.  Lewis 
H.  Morgan  suggests  *  that  if  100,000  years  be  as- 
sumed as  the  measure  of  man's  existence  upon  the 
earth,  the  first  60,000  years  must  be  assigned  to  the 
period  of  savagery  and  only  the  last  5000  years  to  civ- 
lization.  Or  if  the  total  period  is  twice  as  great,  the 
same  proportion  between  savagery  and  civilization 
remains.  He  holds  that  probably  the  great  occasions 
of  progress  have  been  the  enlargement  of  the  sources 
of  food  caused  by  the  invention  of  various  arts.  He 
indicates  five  such  epochs  in  the  following  order: 
fruits  and  nuts;  fish,  —  fire  perhaps  being  first  used 
for  cooking  fish;  farinaceous  food,  through  simple 
cultivation;  meat  and  milk,  involving  the  domesti- 
cation of  animals;  unlimited  subsistence,  by  means 
of  field  agriculture  in  which  the  plow  is  drawn  by 
animals. 

*  Lewis  H.  Morgan,  Ancient  Society,  chapter  xi,  p.  19. 

34 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

This  statement  has  only  the  value  of  a  suggestion, 
and  needs  in  any  case  to  be  supplemented  by  a  re- 
cognition of  the  way  in  which  the  division  of  labor 
between  the  sexes  and  the  sex  instinct  itself  enter 
into  the  whole  social  process  in  connection  with  the 
problem  of  the  food  supply.*  To  a  certain  extent  the 
nature  of  the  food  secured  and  the  mental  type  de- 
veloped in  getting  it  and  in  making  adjustment  to  the 
physical  and  social  environment,  depend  upon  sex. 
In  primitive  life  man  and  woman  had  to  a  great  extent 
different  food,  different  occupations,  and  also  different 
mental  types  and  social  attitudes.  These  differences 
have,  however,  been  constantly  acting  upon  each 
other  and  cooperating  in  producing  the  composite 
whole  of  the  social  life.  The  conditions  which  the  in- 
stincts develop  in  the  life  of  the  sexes  differ  appreci- 
ably. Woman,  with  the  care  of  children,  is  less  free 
to  move  about.  Her  abode  is  more  fixed  and  station- 
ary. This  necessitates  finding  food  close  at  hand.  She 
therefore  digs  roots,  gathers  berries  and  fruits,  and 
cultivates  them.  Man,  on  the  other  hand,  does  not  feel 
the  same  immediate  physical  and  sympathetic  con- 
straint to  remain  in  a  settled  habitat.  Driven  by  hun- 
ger, he  is  free  to  rove  far  and  wide  in  the  pursuit  of 
game,  and  he  is  also  strong  to  fight  other  men  for 
their  women  and  for  the  spoils  of  war.  Man  is  essen- 
tially a  hunter  even  in  his  wooing.  When  he  is  ex- 
hausted by  the  chase  and  gorged  upon  the  captured 
game,  he  sits  about  the  camp,  uninterested  in  the 
drudgery  of  the  women  and  quite  willing  to  leave  all 
domestic  burdens  to  their  care.  He  is  strong,  cunning, 
*  Otis  T.  Mason,  Woman's  Share  in  Primitive  Culture,  p.  2. 

35 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  masterful,  for  these  are  the  qualities  developed 
by  hunting  and  warfare.  She  is  passive,  patient,  and 
obedient,  for  these  are  the  qualities  of  the  mother  and 
of  the  toiler.  There  is  ground  for  saying  that  the  mas- 
culine type  of  life  is  primarily  correlative  with  the 
food-process,  for  even  man's  sexual  life  takes  on  the 
form  of  the  chase  and  capture.  The  feminine  type,  on 
the  contrary,  seems  primarily  conditioned  by  sex,  for 
woman's  food  must  be  of  such  a  nature  and  accessi- 
bility that  it  can  be  secured  under  the  exigencies  of 
child-bearing. 

This  relatively  stationary  and  permanent  character 
of  woman's  life  and  the  more  regular  and  routine  na- 
ture of  her  daily  habits  have  tended  to  make  her  the 
centre  of  society.  The  little  children  must  look  to  her 
for  food,  and,  in  the  circle  of  which  she  is  the  central 
figure,  they  associate  with  one  another.  Man  is  also 
drawn  back  into  this  group  after  adventures  in  hunt- 
ing or  warfare.  He  is  impelled  by  his  sexual  desire  to 
seek  the  companionship  of  woman,  and  is  attracted  to 
her  for  the  preparation  of  food  taken  in  the  chase.  It 
must  also  often  happen  that  he  is  unsuccessful  in 
catching  game  or  exhausts  his  supply;  but  her  food, 
while  perhaps  less  to  his  taste,  is  more  to  be  depended 
on  and  is  ready  to  hand.  Naturally,  the  women  of  a 
clan  live  more  or  less  in  common,  and  the  men  of  the 
group  find  companionship  with  one  another  in  and 
about  the  women's  quarters.  The  fundamental  social 
bond  is  then  the  tie  between  the  mother  and  child. 
Man  is  attracted  to  her  also,  and  thus  all  the  elements 
of  the  human  world  cohere  by  powerful  forces  in  a 
rudimentary  social  whole.    "We  can  hardly  find  a 

36 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

parallel,"  says  Professor  Thomas,  "for  the  intimacy 
of  association  between  mother  and  child  during  the 
period  of  lactation;  and,  in  the  absence  of  domesti- 
cated animals,  or  suitable  foods,  and  also,  apparently, 
from  simple  neglect  formally  to  wean  the  child,  this 
connection  is  greatly  prolonged.  The  child  is  fre- 
quently suckled  from  four  to  five  years  and  occa- 
sionally from  ten  to  twelve.  In  consequence  we  find 
society  literally  growing  up  about  the  woman.  The 
mother  and  her  children,  and  her  children's  children, 
and  so  on  indefinitely  in  the  female  line,  form  a 
group."  ^ 

The  primacy  and  far-reaching  significance  of  these 
social  bonds  centering  about  woman  in  early  society 
appear  in  three  notable  ways.  First,  descent  is  reck- 
oned in  the  female  line.  The  children  belong  to  the 
mother's  line  and  not  to  the  father's.  Among  the 
American  Indians,  the  Blacks  of  Australia  and  Africa, 
the  ancient  Arabians  and  Hebrews,  Chinese  and 
Japanese,  the  predominance  of  woman  in  the  family 
system  is  clear.  In  many  cases  the  husband  goes  to  live 
in  the  family  of  the  bride,  and  "  a  man's  own  son  is 
only  the  son  of  his  wife."  Second,  through  her  settled 
life  and  labor,  woman  is  the  creator  and  owner  of 
property  and  on  this  account  often  controls  the  social 
processes.  Her  husband  is  dependent  upon  her.  ^ 
Third,  the  cohesive,  sympathetic  quality  necessary  to 
a  genuine  social  consciousness  springs  from  the  woman 
and  the  mother.  The  group  consciousness  is  felt  most 

*  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  p.  56. 

^  The  portrayal  of  the  virtuous  woman  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  chap- 
ter xxxi,  is  in  point  here. 

37 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

powerfully  by  the  relatively  small  number  which  ex- 
perience immediately  the  common  bond  of  kinship 
within  the  same  gens  or  clan.  They  live  close  to- 
gether, dependent  upon  each  other,  and  the  attitude 
developed  between  the  mother  and  child  is  radiated 
and  reinforced  by  various  experiences.  All  share  in 
the  famine  or  in  the  abundant  harvest.  The  dangers 
from  wild  beasts,  from  storms,  floods,  drouths,  and 
enemies  weld  the  group  together  as  do  success  in  the 
chase,  triumph  in  battle,  and  the  joys  of  the  feast.  It 
is  probably  these  actual  common  experiences,  rather 
than  the  mere  fact  of  physical  kinship,  which  esTa^ 
lish  the  firm  coherence  of  the  family  or  tribe,  ana~ 
produce  the  gregariousness  of  the  race. 

Indirectly,  the  centripetal,  unifying  influences  of 
woman's  world  required  the  development  of  quite 
difi'erent  qualities  in  man.  The  strength  of  the  tie 
between  mother  and  child  expresses  itself  in  an  in- 
stinctive antipathy  to  whatever  threatens  it.  Hence 
the  suspicion  of  strangers  and  the  fury  against  ene- 
mies. It  is  a  matter  of  common  observation  that  the 
hatred  and  revenge  of  the  female  of  aU  species  when 
aroused  are  more  ferocious  and  relentless  than  the 
same  emotions  in  the  male.  This  fact  aids  in  under- 
standing the  influence  of  w^oman  in  developing  the 
sterner  qualities  in  man.  Woman  in  her  weakness  and 
in  her  peaceful,  quiet  pursuits,  needs  protection  for 
herself  and  child.  She  depends  upon  man  for  this.  He 
is  freer,  more  muscular,  and  trained  to  habits  of  com- 
bat and  adventure.  Nature  has  enabled  that  type  of 
male  to  overcome  its  enemies  and  therefore  to  propa- 
gate itself.    The  very  affection  and  sympathy  which 

38 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

operate  within  the  domestic  circle  demand  radically 
different  qualities  in  man  as  the  protector  of  the 
group.  Consequently,  in  the  selective  process  of  the 
sexual  instinct,  feminine  favors  and  honors  go  to  the 
individuals  of  strength,  prowess,  and  masterfulness. 
Sensitiveness  to  this  femininely  moulded  public  opin- 
ion is  one  of  the  strongest  forces  in  primitive  society, 
or  in  any  society/  In  many  tribes  the  youth  must 
prove  his  quality  by  killing  his  man,  capturing  game, 
or  even  by  providing  food  for  his  sweetheart's  whole 
family  for  a  year,  before  he  is  allowed  to  take  her  as 
his  wife  and  become  a  full  member  of  the  tribe.  Men 
come  to  esteem  these  qualities  among  themselves  and 
display  excessive  vanity  over  their  achievements  or 
chagrin  at  their  failure.  Woman's  influence  is  there- 
fore twofold.  Through  her  sexually  determined  man- 
ner of  life  she  becomes  the  centre  of  the  social  group. 
Within  itself  this  group  tends  to  be  dominated  by 
sympathy  and  mutual  aid.  It  has  an  intimate,  per- 
sonal, and  sentimental  character.  But  the  exigencies 
of  its  existence  necessitate  an  attitude  of  enterprise, 
struggle,  and  warfare  with  the  elements  of  the  envi- 
ronment. Man  is  affected  by  both  tendencies.  Wo- 
man herself,  together  with  the  domestic  atmosphere 
which  she  creates  by  the  attractive  and  suggestive 
products  of  her  labor,  elicits  from  man  the  gentler, 
companionable  attitudes.  This  is  seen  in  all  ani- 
mals in  the  mating  season.  But  by  her  helplessness 
and  dependence  man  is  also  compelled  to  a  life  of 
strife  and  adventure  against  the  enemies  of  the  group 
or  in   the   natural    process    of    extending    territory 

^  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  pp.  Ill  ff. 

39 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  supplying  increasing  needs.  In  primitive  socie- 
ties, and  for  the  most  part  among  civilized  peoples^ 
man  has  been  more  of  a  fighter  than  a  lover,  even 
though  his  fighting  was  so  much  the  outgrowth  of 
his  love. 

Man's  hunger,  also,  like  his  love,  drove  him  to  a 
life  of  adventure,  craft,  and  combat.  In  him,  as  in 
woman,  the  food  and  sex  impulses  conditioned  and 
reinforced  each  other.  He  hunted  and  fought  for  food 
much  as  he  hunted  and  fought  for  women.  The  two 
great  springs  of  his  activity  drove  him  to  a  life  of 
prowess  and  conquest.  Man  was  free  to  get  food  any- 
where in  a  wide  range,  and  his  physical  and  muscular 
structure  were  so  developed  that  he  could  hunt  and 
catch  animals  as  woman  could  not  do.  Besides,  there  is 
more  stimulus  and  excitement  in  obtaining  animals 
than  in  getting  herbs  or  fruits.  So  important  is  the 
manner  of  getting  food  that  it  is  regarded  by  many 
scholars  as  the  factor  which  has  determined  the  na- 
ture of  man's  mind.  Professor  John  Dewey  makes 
this  statement  with  reference  to  the  psychological 
significance  of  occupations:  "The  occupations  deter: 
mine  the  chief  modes  of  satisfaction,  the  standards  of 
success  and  failure.  Hence,  they  furnish  the  working 
classifications  and  definitions  of  value;  they  control 
the  desire  process.  Moreover,  they  decide  the  sets  of 
objects  and  relations  that  are  important,  and  thereby 
provide  the  content  or  material  of  attention,  and  the 
qualities  that  are  interestingly  significant.  The  direc- 
tions given  to  mental  life  thereby  extend  to  emotional 
and  intellectual  characteristics.  So  fundamental  and 
pervasive  is  the  group  of  occupational  activities  that  it 

40 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

affords  the  scheme  or  pattern  of  the  structural  organi- 
zation of  the  mental  traits."^ 

The  same  author  holds,  accordingly,  that  it  is  per- 
missible to  speak  of  the  hunting  type  of  mental  life, 
and  of  the  pastoral,  the  military,  the  trading,  and  the 
manufacturing  types.  He  has  shown  in  some  detail 
what  kind  of  mind  results  from  the  hunting  life.  It 
develops  intense  immediate  interests.  There  is  no 
carrying  out  of  a  series  of  activities  toward  a  remote 
goal.  In  other  words,  there  is  no  work  as  the  civilized 
man  or  as  primitive  woman  knows  it.  But  under  the 
stimulus  of  his  immediate  need,  as  when  in  pursuit  of 
game  to  satisfy  hunger,  the  savage  is  capable  of  re- 
markable endurance,  patience,  inhibition,  and  self- 
control.  The  savage  of  Australia,  for  example,  hunts 
when  he  is  in  need  of  food;  but  he  does  not  provide 
for  the  future  by  drying  the  meat  or  saving  the  skins. 
He  gorges  himself  and  is  satisiSed  until  the  pangs 
return.  His  weapons  are  of  the  simplest  sort,  like  the 
club  or  spear,  which  are  secured  at  the  moment  of  need. 
Much  of  his  fish  and  game  he  catches  by  hand.  He 
does  not  use  set  traps  or  nets.  He  makes  bark  boats 
and  even  his  hut  at  the  moment  and  on  the  spot 
where  he  needs  them.  Such  a  life  develops  personal 
resourcefulness,  keen  sense-perception,  quickness,  dex- 
terity, and  skill.  It  lacks,  however,  the  power  of  gen- 
eralization, of  abstraction,  of  implication  necessary 
to  the  more  complicated  routine  and  remote  achieve- 
ments of  the  civilized  man. 

The  hunting  life  develops  also  a  characteristic  emo- 

John  Dewey,  "Interpretation  of  Savage  Mind,"  Psychological  Re- 
view.  May,  1902,  p.  217. 

41 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tional  quality.   It  is  full  of  the  most  exciting  conflict 
situations.  The  hunter  driven  by  the  pangs  of  hunger 
is  goaded  to  the  highest  pitch  of  desire  and  expec- 
tancy. He  takes  desperate  risks,  the  success  or  failure 
of  which  brings  the  acutest  satisf acti6^s  or  the  most 
gnawing  misery.    The  power  and  range -ofhis  emo^ 
tional  life  is  well  illustrated  in  the  fact  that  theinint- 
ing  activities  still  furnish  the  recreations  of  civiliza- 
tioji.  All  games  of  ball  are  modeled  on  the  chase,  the 
ball  taking  the  place  of  the  animal.   Modern  warfare, 
business  enterprise,  and  even  the  scientific  "pursuit 
of  truth"  show  how  far  the  hunting  process  and  its 
terminology  hold  control  over  the  various  interests  of 
civilized  man.  The  readjustment  to  the  necessities  of 
new  industrial  conditions  began  in  so  recent  a  time, 
relatively,  that  the  mental  type  belonging  to  the  older 
order  still  persists,  and  furnishes  important  clews  to 
many  features  of  modern  as  well  as  of  primitive  social 
life  and  institutions.    The  destruction  of  game  and  the 
increase  of  population  have  forced  a  change  of  occu- 
pation which  in  time  must  have  its  natural  effect  upon 
all  human  ways  of  life,  though  the  social  and  cultural 
changes  are  effected  slowly  and  against  great  inertia. 
These  changes,  it  is    important  to  note,  emphasize 
more  and  more  the  typically  feminine  manner  of  life, 
with   its   sympathetic   social    attitudes    and    routine 
labor;  while  a  different  direction  is  given  to  the  mas- 
culine tendencies  to  organization,  combat,  and  ven- 
turesome achievement. 

"The  primitive,  motor  type  of  life  evidently  con- 
tinued for  an  immense  stretch  of  time,"  writes  Pro- 
fessor Thomas, "  and  it  was  but  as  yesterday,  especially 

43 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

in  the  white  race,  that  population  became  dense,  or 
game  exhausted,  and  man  found  himself  obliged  to 
adjust  himself  to  changed  conditions  or  perish.  In- 
stead of  slaughtering  the  ox,  he  fed  it,  housed  it  in 
winter,  bred  from  it,  reared  the  calf,  yoked  it  to  a 
plow,  plowed  the  fields,  sowed  seeds,  dug  out  the 
weeds,  and  gathered,  threshed,  and  ground  the  grain. 
This  was  disagreeable,  because  the  problematical  and 
vicissitudinous  element  was  eliminated  or  reduced  to 
a  minimum.  Under  the  artificial  system  in  w^hich  he 
was  forced  to  obtain  his  food,  sudden  strains  were 
not  placed  on  the  attention,  emotional  reactions  did 
not  follow,  and  the  activities  were  habitual,  dull,  me- 
chanical, irksome.  This  was  labor,  but  w^hile  the 
labor  itself  was  disagreeable,  its  products  represented 
satisfactions,  and  the  habits  of  the  race  adjusted 
themselves  to  what  was  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
emotions  a  bad  situation." ^ 

It  is  not  difficult  to  show  that  the  habits  and  tem- 
peraments in  both  sexes,  expressed  and  built  up  in  their 
occupations,  are  reflected  in  the  religious  ceremonies 
and  institutions  as  well  as  in  other  forms  of  culture. 
Among  primitive  peoples  the  notable  thing  in  their 
religion  is  the  ceremonial  or  cult.  It  happens  quite 
universally  that  the  men  have  charge  of  these  ceremo- 
nies, while  women  are  usually  forbidden  to  witness 
them  even  at  a  distance.  Though  it  is  through  woman 
that  the  nucleus  of  society  is  begun  and  though  the 
powerfully  cohesive  qualities  of  large  societies  remain 
essentially  feminine,  still  the  representation  of  this 

^  W.  I.  Thomas,  "Gaoing  Instinct,"  American  Journal  of  Sociology, 
vol.  vi,  1900-01. 

43 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

social  solidarity  in  ceremonials  is  largely  masculine. 
This  indicates  that  the  organizing,  directing,  executive 
power  is  due  chiefly  to  man.^  He  is  active,  aggressive, 
and  given  to  leadership.  In  some  tribes,  even  where 
the  social  and  political  organizations,4ike  the  council, 
are  made  up  of  w^omen,  the  final  authority^and-4e^er- 
ship  rests  with  a  small  group  of  men.  The  dominant 
influence  of  the  motor  male  is  often  seen  in  violent 
form  within  the  maternal  organization  itself,  and  in 
the  course  of  social  progress  the  outward  mould  of  the 
collective  organism  is  determined  by  the  men  of 
the  group.  An  analogous  case  occurs  in  reference  to 
occupations.  The  cultivation  of  grains  and  fruits, 
the  weaving  of  vegetable  fibres  and  wool,  making  pot- 
tery, and  possibly  the  use  of  domestic  animals  were  at 
first  the  work  of  women.  But  in  time,  owing  to  ex- 
haustion of  game  and  the  need  of  more  abundant  and 
certain  food,  man  brought  his  initiative  and  mastery 
to  bear  upon  these  occupations  and  developed  them 
far  beyond  what  woman  had  done.  The  content  was 
hers,  but  the  form  was  his.  A  similar  development  has 
occurred  in  religion.  The  content  —  the  social  atti- 
tude of  sympathy,  of  dependence,  of  solidarity  is  wo- 
man's; but  the  form  —  the  dance,  the  incantation, 
the  symbols,  and  the  priesthood  —  is  chiefly  his.  It  is 
true  man  developed  certain  types  of  social  organiza- 
tion in  his  own  enterprises.  He  had  to  cooperate  and 
do  team  work  in  catching  big  game  and  especially  in 
carrying  on  w^arfare.  In  this,  submission  to  leaders 
and  enthusiasm  for  the  common  interest,  symbolized 
by  the  tribal  mark  or  totemic  emblem,  tended  to 
»  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  pp.  145,  230. 

44 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

create  social  feeling.  Such  organization  was  socially 
valuable,  however,  chiefly  on  the  side  of  technique. 
It  gave  mobility  and  power  for  deeds  of  skill  and  vio- 
lence. Its  great  significance  was  in  providing  objec- 
tive, dramatic,  permanent,  ceremonial  expression  for 
his  own  activities  and  especially  for  the  deeper  spirit 
of  kinship,  fraternity,  and  tribal  unity  which  sprang 
from  the  mother  in  her  more  settled  and  peaceful 
group.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  of  course,  that  there 
was  in  the  earlier  religions,  any  conscious  intention  of 
producing  this  result.  It  was  rather  the  effect  of 
controlling  habits. 

It  was  the  masculine  influence  which  effected 
the  organization  and  development  of  ritual,  but  the 
processes  reflected  in  the  ritual  were  those  of  the 
occupations  of  women  as  well  as  those  of  man.  The 
ceremonials  were  patterned  upon  food-processes,  court- 
ship, war,  and  migration.  Where  totemism  exists,  the 
totems  are  both  animals  and  plants.  They  represent 
the  subsistence  of  both  sexes.  Among  the  Australians 
the  totems  are  such  animals  as  the  kangaroo,  emu, 
wildcat,  and  such  plants  as  the  hakea  flower,  plum 
tree,  and  grass  seed.  All  the  ceremonies  are  in  charge 
of  the  men,  and  all  show  the  dramatizing,  motor  qual- 
ity of  the  masculine,  hunting  mind.  Whether  the 
totem  is  a  flower  or  a  fish,  the  ceremony  consists  of 
dancing  and  mimetic  movements  typical  of  the  habits 
of  the  species.  The  leader  wears  a  head-gear  and  his 
body  is  painted  to  make  him  resemble  the  totem. 

Spencer  and  Gillen  give  the  following  description  of 
the  initiation  ceremony  of  the  eagle-hawk  totem  in 
Central  Australia.   It  was  performed  by  two  men,  sup- 

45 


PSYCHOLOGY   OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

posed  to  represent  two  eagle-hawks  quarreling  over  a 
piece  of  flesh,  represented  by  the  downy  mass  in  one 
man's  mouth.  "At  first  they  remained  squatting  on 
their  shields,  moving  their  arms  up  and  down,  and 
still  continuing  this  action,  which  was  supposed  to 
represent  the  flapping  of  wings,  they  jumped  off  the 
shields  and  with  their  bodies  bent  up  and  arms  ex- 
tended and  flapping,  began  circling  round  each  other 
as  if  each  were  afraid  of  coming  to  close  quarters.  Then 
they  stopped  and  moved  a  step  or  two  at  a  time,  first 
to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other,  until  finally,  they 
came  to  close  quarters  and  began  fighting  with  their 
heads  for  the  possession  of  the  piece  of  meat.  This 
went  on  for  some  time,  and  then  two  men  stepped  out 
from  amongst  the  audience  and  took  away  the 
Churinga  (sacred  sticks  used  in  the  head-dress) ,  which 
were  a  great  weight  and  must  have  caused  a  consider- 
able strain  on  the  head,  especially  in  the  great  heat  of 
the  afternoon  sun,  for  it  must  be  remembered  that  it 
was  now  well  on  into  the  summer.  Then  once  more 
they  began  going  round  and  round  each  other  flapping 
wings,  jumping  up  and  falling  back  just  like  fighting 
birds,  until  finally  they  again  came  to  close  quarters, 
and  the  attacking  man  at  length  seized  with  his  teeth 
the  piece  of  meat  and  wrenched  it  out  of  the  other 
man's  mouth."  ^ 

The  ceremony  of  the  plum-tree  totem  was  per- 
formed by  four  men.  "First  of  all  one  man  came  up 
to  where  the  audience  w^as  sitting  by  the  Parra  (a 
mound  of  earth).  He  pretended  to  knock  plums  down 
and  to  eat  them,  and  after  a  short  time  he  sat  down 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen :  The  Nature  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  296. 

46 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

amongst  the  audience.  Then  two  others  came  up,  one 
of  whom  remained  standing,  while  he  knocked  down 
imaginary  plums,  which  were  eaten  by  the  other  man, 
who  seated  himself  on  the  ground.  This  over,  both 
of  the  men  went  and  joined  the  audience,  and  the 
fourth  man  came  and  went  through  the  same  pre- 
tence of  knocking  down  and  eating  plums."  ^ 

Similar  mimetic  ceremonies  occur  among  all  peo- 
ples, gaining  their  content  from  the  objects  upon 
which  the  life-processes  focus  attention,  and  having 
the  organized  and  often  highly  elaborated  form  due  to 
masculine  control.  Seal  and  fish  are  the  means  of  life 
to  the  Eskimo,  and  these  are  the  central  objects  in  his 
religion,  the  activities  involved  in  their  capture  and 
use  being  the  models  of  his  rituals.  The  Indians  of 
North  America  are  in  contact  with  the  bear,  deer,  and 
buffalo.  Their  women  cultivate  corn  and  rice.  Their 
ceremonials  reproduce  in  dramatic  form  the  life 
centering  in  these.  Rice  is  the  great  staple  of  the 
Malays,  and  they  have  extensive  rituals  in  connec- 
tion with  its  planting,  harvesting,  and  use.  In  West 
Africa  special  ceremonies  attend  the  eating  of  the 
new  yams.  Among  the  Arabs  the  date  palm  is  a  deter- 
mining factor.  Every  great  interest  of  a  people  is 
reflected  in  its  religion.  There  are  therefore  many 
religious  objects  and  observances  belonging  to  a  given 
group.  But  "there  are  no  tiger-gods  where  there  are 
no  tigers,"  and  no  rice-gods  where  there  is  no  rice. 
Migration  and  conquest,  decadence  and  survival,  may 
obscure  and  confuse  this  principle,  but  in  undis- 
turbed natural  races  the  main  fact  is  clear,  while  even 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  320. 

47 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

in  mixed  and  shifting  races  the  outlines  of  old  customs 
and  traditions  give  it  confirmation. 

The  Todas,  a  small  tribe  in  the  Nilgiri  Hills  of 
southern  India,  furnish  a  striking  illustration  of  the 
economic  determination  of  religion.  "  The  milking  and 
churning  operations  of  the  dairy  form  the  basis  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  religious  ritual  of  the  Todas.  The 
lives  of  the  people  are  largely  devoted  to  their  buffa- 
loes, and  the  care  of  certain  of  these  animals,  regarded 
as  more  sacred  than  the  rest,  is  associated  with  much 
ceremonial.  The  sacred  animals  are  attended  by  men 
especially  set  apart  who  form  the  Toda  priesthood, 
and  the  milk  of  the  sacred  animals  is  churned  in 
dairies  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  Toda  temples, 
and  are  so  regarded  by  the  people  themselves,  The 
ordinary  operations  of  the  dairy  have  become  a  reli- 
gious ritual,  and  ceremonies  of  a  religious  character 
accompany  nearly  every  important  incident  in  the 
lives  of  the  buffaloes."  ^ 

The  Semites  were  originally  nomadic,  and  this  ac- 
counts for  the  conspicuous  place  which  animals  hold 
throughout  their  religion.  "The  main  lines  of  sacri- 
ficial worship  were  fixed  before  any  part  of  the  Semitic 
stock  had  learned  agriculture  and  adopted  cereal  food 
as  its  ordinary  diet."  Therefore  cereals  and  fruits  never 
had  more  than  a  secondary  place  in  Semitic  ritual,  but 
those  which  were  most  conspicuous  in  religious  cere- 
monies "were  also  the  chief  vegetable  constituents 
of  man's  daily  food,"  namely,  meal,  wine,  and  oil.^ 

1  W.  H.  R,  Rivers,  The  Todas,  p.  38. 

2  W.  Robertson  Smith,  The  Religion  of  the  Semites,  pp.  219,  222.   Cf. 
Barton,  Sketch  of  Semitic  Origins,  chapter  vii,  "  Yah  we. " 

48 


IMPULSES   IN  PRIMITIVE  RELIGION 

These  differences  of  ceremonial  detail,  varying 
totems,  myths,  and  institutions  should  not  obscure 
the  underlying  unity  of  primitive  religion.  Such 
variations  really  confirm  the  principle  of  unity,  which 
may  be  expressed  thus:  religion  in  its  first  form  is 
a  reflection  of  the  most  important  group  interests 
through  social  symbols  and  ceremonials  based  upon 
the  activities  incident  to  such  interests.  The  activities 
and  symbols  necessarily  vary  with  the  environment 
and  with  the  people,  but  they  are  everywhere  condi- 
tioned by  these  factors.  The  religious  consciousness  is 
a  most  intimate  phase  of  the  group  consciousness. 
Taken  in  this  way  primitive  religions  present  a  re- 
markable unity,  which  is  not  lost  even  in  highly  devel- 
oped faiths.  The  theories  which  sought  to  explain 
this  unity  by  means  of  direct  revelation,  or  by  some 
special  "instinct"  or  "sense"  encountered  insuper- 
able historical  and  psychological  difficulties.  These 
difficulties  are  further  increased  for  such  theories  by 
the  fact  that  it  is  not  only  the  unity  of  religion  which 
needs  to  be  explained,  but  also  the  unity  of  law, 
morality,  and  art ;  and  not  merely  the  unity  of  each 
of  these  with  itself  in  various  manifestations,  but  of 
all  these  together  in  a  comprehensive  social  process. 
Brinton  has  pointed  out  that,  "Wherever  we  turn  in 
time  or  in  space  to  the  earliest  and  simplest  religions 
of  the  world  we  find  them  dealing  with  nearly  the 
same  objective  facts  in  nearly  the  same  objective 
fashion,  the  differences  being  due  to  local  and  tem- 
poral causes."  ^ 

Sociologists  recognize  a  law  of  parallelism  in  devel- 

1  Brinton,  Religions  of  Primitive  Peoples,  p.  9. 

49 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

opment,  by  which  is  meant  the  fact  that  different 
groups  follow  essentially  the  same  steps  in  their  men- 
tal and  social  progress.  "It  is  recognized  that  the  hu- 
man mind  and  the  outside  world  are  essentially  alike 
the  world  over;  that  the  mind  everywhere  acts  on  the 
same  principles;  and  that  ignoring  the  local,  incidental 
and  eccentric  we  find  similar  laws  of  growth  among 
all  peoples."  ^  The  differences  are  due  to  the  different 
directions  given  to  attention  by  the  exigencies  of  life 
and  by  the  influence  of  social  suggestion. 2  The  recog- 
nition of  the  facts  that  religion  reflects  the  fundamen- 
tal life-experiences  of  man  and  that  the  driving  im- 
pulses in  these  experiences  are  the  most  elemental 
instincts,  such  as  food  and  sex;  and  that  the  reactions 
arising  from  these  instincts  present  a  fairly  uniform 
development,  varied  only  incidentally  by  environ- 
mental conditions  and  occupations  concerned  with 
these,  by  contact  with  other  races,  by  arrested  devel- 
opment of  social  habits,  —  the  recognition  of  these 
facts  invites  a  psychological  investigation  of  the  typi- 
cal phases  of  the  religious  consciousness  as  it  unfolds  in 
the  life  of  mankind. 

*  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  p.  273. 

2  Irving  King,  The  Development  of  ReligioTit  chapter  iv,  has  given 
an  eycellent  account  of  these  variations. 


CHAPTER  IV 

CUSTOM   AND   TABOO 

It  was  maintained  in  the  last  chapter  that  the 
forms  of  social  life  are  determined  in  their  main  out- 
lines by  reactions  upon  the  environment  under  the 
stress  of  the  nutritive  and  sexual  impulses.  These 
forms  of  social  life  —  occupations,  relations  of  the 
sexes,  various  ceremonials,  and  folk- ways  —  tend  to 
become  fixed,  and  to  secure  themselves  against  change 
by  many  natural  safeguards.  Observers  of  primitive 
peoples  constantly  note  their  minute  and  slavish  sub- 
jection to  set  forms  of  conduct  and  the  heavy  pen- 
alties which  follow  any  violations.  If  Rousseau  had 
known  the  life  of  natural  races  as  they  are  known  to- 
da3^  he  would  not  have  sought  freedom  by  trying  to 
get  "back  to  nature."  He  would  have  found  primi- 
tive customs  far  more  exacting  than  the  conventions 
and  fashions  of  modern  life.  From  his  birth  to  his 
death,  the  savage  lives  in  a  world  overgrown  with 
practices  which  infold  him  all  the  more  surely  be- 
cause he  follows  them  quite  unconsciously  and  without 
question. 

The  force  and  rigidity  of  these  customs  may  be  seen 
in  the  penalties  attending  their  violation.  The  only 
crime  in  primitive  society  is  the  transgression  of  cus- 
tom, the  normal  consequence  of  which  is  death  or  ex- 
clusion from  the  tribe.  "In  Tonga,  for  example,  it  was 
believed  that  if  any  one  fed  himself  with  his  own 

51 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

hands  after  touching  the  sacred  person  of  a  superior 
chief  or  anything  that  belonged  to  him,  he  would 
swell  up  and  die."  ^  Frazer  gives  the  instance  of  a 
slave  who  unknowingly  ate  food  left  from  the  meal  of 
a  chief,  and  who,  when  told  what  he  had  done,  "was 
seized  by  the  most  extraordinary  convulsions  and 
cramp  in  the  stomach,  which  never  ceased  till  he  died, 
about  sundown  the  same  day."  If  one  touched  the 
dead  or  were  a  mourner  for  the  dead,  he  was  excluded 
from  the  camp  for  a  fixed  time  until  certain  rites  were 
performed.  Among  some  peoples  such  persons  could 
not  touch  food  with  their  hands  and  had  to  be  fed  by 
others.  The  name  of  a  person  may  not  be  spoken 
aloud,  for  if  this  is  done,  the  person  named  is  liable 
to  severe  sickness  and  death.  Strangers  are  likely  to 
convey  pollution  and  cause  sickness,  famine,  and 
death.  Irregular  and  novel  conditions  are  always  dan- 
gerous. All  departures  from  custom  are  therefore 
taboo.  Taboo  is  just  the  negative  side  of  custom. 
They  are  correlative  terms.  Neither  exists  without 
the  other.  The  taboo  is  not  originally  something  for- 
bidden by  enactment  or  by  authority  of  any  kind. 
Evil  consequences  flow  immediately  from  the  con- 
scious or  unconscious,  intentional  or  unintentional, 
violation  of  custom.  The  customs  are  the  thou- 
shalts  and  the  taboos  the  thou-shalt-nots  of  primitive 
life. 

The  question  at  once  arises.  How  do  customs  come 
to  possess  such  inviolability  and  authority.^  What  is 
the  source  of  the  taboos,  the  restraints  and  penalties? 
Various  answers  have  been  given.    It  was  formerly 

»  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  i,  pp.  319,  321. 

52 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

held  that  they  were  artificial  inventions  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  nobility  and  the  priests.  J.  G.  Frazer's 
position  is  this:  "The  original  character  of  the  taboo 
must  be  looked  for  not  in  its  civil  but  in  its  religious 
element.  It  was  not  the  creation  of  a  legislator  but  the 
gradual  outgrowth  of  animistic  beliefs,  to  which  the 
ambition  and  avarice  of  chiefs  and  priests  afterward 
gave  an  artificial  extension."  ^  Frazer  concerns  him- 
self almost  entirely  with  the  descriptive  facts  concern- 
ing taboo  and  says  relatively  little  about  its  origin. 
F.  B.  Jevons  ^  holds  that  taboo  is  an  original  "senti- 
ment" native  to  the  mind  and  underived  from  experi- 
ence. It  is  a  given  datum  of  consciousness  such  as  the 
Intuitionist  school  of  moral  philosophers  conceive  the 
Moral  Sentiment  to  be.  The  taboo  sentiment  "is 
prior  to  and  even  contradictory  to  experience."  "How 
primitive  man  settled  what  things  were  not  to  be  done 
there  is  no  evidence  to  show."  According  to  this 
author  taboos  become  identified  with  religion  by  being 
conceived  as  the  rational,  purposive  requirements  of  a 
divine  being.  "As  soon  as  a  taboo  is  taken  up  into 
religion,  its  character  is  changed;  it  is  no  longer  an 
arbitrary  fact,  it  becomes  the  command  of  a  divine 
being,  who  has  reasons  for  requiring  obedience  to  his 
ordinances."  ^  The  same  psychological  objection  holds 
against  Jevons's  explanation  of  taboo  as  is  made 
against  the  general  position  of  the  Intuitionist  school, 
namely,  that  it  furnishes  assertions  where  one  seeks 
further  analysis,  and  stops  with  phenomena  concern- 

1  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  "Taboo." 

^  F.  B.  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  pp.  85  f. 

^  Ihid.,  p.  92. 

53 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ing  which  a  genetic  account  may  reasonably  be  de- 
manded. 

Ernest  Crawley  ^  has  shown  that  the  attempt  to 
explain  taboo  in  terms  of  social  functions  and  practi- 
cal activities  is  not  futile.  He  does,  however,  seem  to 
share  with  Jevons  and  Frazer  the  tendency  to  dis- 
tinguish religious  from  other  forms  of  taboo,  and  to 
rest  this  distinction,  as  they  do,  upon  the  idea  of  super- 
natural beings.  He  wishes  to  deal  with  the  "ideas 
underlying  taboo,"  and  thus  commits  himself  to  the 
formula  if  not  to  the  actual  meaning  of  an  intellectual- 
istic  explanation.  A  psychology  which  starts  with  the 
search  for  the  underlying  ideas  of  social  customs  and 
taboos  is  apt  to  fail  of  results  for  the  reason  that 
these  customs  do  not  spring  from  ideas.  They  are 
reactions  to  felt  needs  and  are  non-rational.  They 
develop  into  habitual  activities,  acquiring  stability 
through  repetition  and  efficiency,  and  gaining  the 
powerful  sanctions  natural  to  long-standing  habits. 
There  is  abundant  evidence  that  primitive  customs 
and  taboos  do  not  arise  from  ideas  or  from  systems  of 
belief,  and  modern  psychology  has  made  it  possible  to 
account  for  such  usages  upon  other  and  far  more  con- 
vincing grounds.  Many  lines  of  proof  support  this 
view.  For  example,  the  replies  of  savages  themselves 
to  inquiries  concerning  their  customs  are  good  evidence 
that  their  conduct  does  not  issue  from  "ideas"  nor 
depend  upon  "reasons."  They  simply  say,  "It  is  our 
custom."  "One  soon  gets  tired  of  the  everlasting 
answer  that  meets  your  questioning  at  every  turn,  'It 
is  our  custom.'  No  doubt  in  very  many  cases  it  is  all  a 

^  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose. 
54 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

Kafir  could  tell  you,  even  if  he  wished  to  be  very  com- 
municative. You  might  as  well  stop  a  well-dressed 
man  in  Pall  Mall  and  ask  him  why  he  wears  a  silk  hat 
with  a  coat  of  a  certain  cut  and  not  with  others.  If  he 
stopped  to  answer  you  at  all  he  would  probably  tell 
you  that  he  did  so  because  it  was  the  custom.  If  an 
enormous  amount  of  our  life  is  a  mass  of  custom, 
much  more  is  it  so  in  the  case  of  the  Africans."  ^ 

Spencer  and  Gillen  relate  their  experience  in  trying 
to  discover  the  origin  of  the  Churinga  or  sacred  sticks 
of  the  natives  of  central  Australia.^  They  were  unable 
to  get  any  other  answer  than  that  the  ancestors  of  the 
natives,  the  Alcheringa  men,  had  them.  "Once  we 
ventured  to  inquire  whether  there  was  no  story  relat- 
ing how  the  Alcheringa  men  came  to  have  them,  but 
the  mirth  which  the  question  provoked  showed  us 
that  to  the  mind  of  the  Arunta  native  the  idea  of  the 
possibility  of  anything  before  the  Alcheringa  was  a 
ridiculous  and  an  incomprehensible  one.  In  this  tribe 
*It  was  so  in  the  Alcheringa'  takes  the  place  of  the 
more  usual  form  of  expression : '  Our  fathers  did  it,  and 
therefore  we  do  it,'  which  is  so  constantly  the  only 
reply  which  the  ethnological  inquirer  receives  to  the 
question:  'Why?'" 

How  little  custom  is  in  the  sphere  of  rational  ideas 
is  also  seen  in  the  fact  that  many  different  myths  or 
stories  will  be  told  by  the  same  savage  at  different 
times  to  account  for  it.  The  savage  has  no  definite 
theory  with  reference  to  his  customs,  and  has  a  tend- 
ency to  reply  in  harmony  with  anything  suggested  by 

*  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  p.  66. 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp.  136  f. 

55 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

the  question  asked  him.  Kidd  found  that  a  Kafir 
would  answer  in  the  same  breath  that  he  beheved  in 
twenty  gods  and  in  only  one  god,  the  inconsistency 
not  being  felt  by  him  because  he  had  no  clear  ideas 
upon  the  subject.  "Out  of  his  mental  fog  arises  a 
belief  which  your  questions  have  suggested."  ^ 

The  non-rationality  of  custom  is  further  proved  by 
the  fact  that  it  is  not  greatly  susceptible  to  modifica- 
tion by  more  reasonable  and  efficient  methods  of  ac- 
complishing given  ends.  Tylor  relates  that  the  Dyaks 
of  Borneo,  when  shown  a  more  efficient  manner  of 
chopping  wood  with  a  V-shaped  cut,  not  only  refused 
to  adopt  it,  although  admitting  its  advantage,  but 
fixed  a  fine  upon  any  one  who  should  employ  the  new 
method.^  As  Jevons  insists,^  custom  and  taboo  are 
mechanical  and  arbitrary.  They  inhibit  experiment 
and  prevent  in  large  part  the  derivation  of  advantage 
from  chance  experience.  "Even  if  accidentally  and 
unintentionally  he  is  led  to  make  such  an  experiment, 
instead  of  profiting  by  the  experience,  he  dies  of 
fright,  as  did  the  New  Zealand  slave  who  ate  his 
master's  dinner;  or  if  he  does  not  die,  he  is  tabooed, 
excommunicated,  outlawed;  and  his  fate  in  either 
case  strengthens  the  original  respect  for  taboo." 

The  motor  view  of  consciousness  affords  explana- 
tions in  other  than  intellectual  terms  of  many  phe- 
nomena previously  referred  to  ideational  processes. 
It  is  now  seen  that  habits  are  often  established  by 
direct  response  to  needs,  without  the  mediation  of 

*  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  pp.  72  f. 
^  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  71. 
^  F.  B.  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  pp.  90  f. 

56 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

cognitive  reflection.  In  this  way  action  runs  in  the 
short  circuit  and  does  not  follow  the  "loop-line" 
through  reflective  consciousness.  Reflex,  instinctive, 
and  imitative  reactions  are  the  chief  forms  of  this 
type.  The  infant  does  not  grasp  the  handle  of  the 
rattle  and  swing  it  about  because  of  any  idea  underly- 
ing the  act.  It  is  a  direct  reflex,  impulsive  act.  With 
this  experience  certain  visual  impressions  may  be 
interwoven  in  such  a  way  that  the  sight  of  the  rattle 
results  in  grasping  and  swinging  it  without  any  inter- 
vening ideas  of  the  objects,  movements,  or  ends.  The 
development  of  language  in  the  child  by  largely  imita- 
tive processes  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the  complex- 
ity and  elaborateness  of  reactions  which  are  not  con- 
sciously intended  or  controlled  by  the  subject.  This 
illustration  may  be  carried  over  into  social  terms 
where  speech  is  seen  developed  into  well-grooved 
grammatical  forms  of  which  the  agents  are  not  aware 
in  any  reflective  way.  They  await  the  coming  of  a 
missionary  or  philologist  to  show  them  that  they  pos- 
sess a  language  with  parts  of  speech  and  idioms, 
though  they  and  their  tribe  have  developed  and  used 
it  for  centuries.  The  fallacy  that  uniform  and  in- 
volved conduct  which  attains  important  ends  must 
spring  from  the  idea  of  such  ends  is  well  exposed  by 
reference  to  the  conduct  of  animals  whose  behavior 
cannot  be  attributed  to  knowledge.  Wundt  empha- 
sizes the  fact  that  it  is  a  natural  mistake  to  suppose 
that  the  attainment  of  ends  presupposes  the  intention 
to  attain  them,  and  cites  cases  of  animal  conduct  to 
show  that  the  discrepancy  between  the  effect  actually 
produced  and  the  reflection  which  would  be  necessary 

57 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

for  its  purposed  and  intentional  production  should 
correct  the  mistake.  Neither  man  nor  beast  takes 
nourishment  to  repair  bodily  vigor  and  to  gather  force 
for  future  labor,  "but  simply  because  hunger  is  a  dis- 
agreeable and  satiety  an  agreeable  feeling."  "Migra- 
tory birds  do  not  go  in  flocks  because  they  know  that 
they  are  in  this  way  less  liable  to  stray  from  their 
course  or  to  be  attacked  by  enemies ;  and  ants  and  bees 
do  not  nest  and  hive  in  common  because  of  a  convic- 
tion that  they  can  never  attain  in  isolation  the  ends 
that  must  be  fulfilled  by  all  if  they  are  to  live."  These 
things  are  the  results  of  impulses,  and  certain  funda- 
mental impulses  which  man  possesses  in  common  with 
animals  are  held  by  this  psychologist  "to  form  the 
inalienable  natural  foundation  of  human  society  as 
well  as  of  animal  association."  ^ 

We  have  seen  in  the  previous  chapter  that  these 
original  impulses  are  those  of  nutrition  and  sex.  In 
the  method  of  trial  and  error  through  which  these 
impulses  first  express  themselves  there  is  sometimes 
success  and  sometimes  failure.  Necessarily,  those 
individuals  and  groups  which  fail,  perish;  or  at  least 
experience  pain  and  distress  sufficient  to  modify  the 
conduct.  In  any  case,  painful,  disagreeable  conse- 
quences are  in  the  long  run  signs  of  a  lack  of  adapta- 
tion, and  acts  of  such  a  character  tend  automatically, 
it  might  be  said,  to  defeat  themselves.  On  the  con- 
trary, those  individuals  and  groups  which  secure 
adjustment  to  their  environment  gain  satisfactions. 
These  satisfactions  are  indications  of  right,  that  is,  of 
efficient,  conduct.    Such  satisfactions  as,  for  example, 

*  W.  "Wundt,  Ethics,  "The  Facts  of  the  Moral  Life,"  pp.  129  f. 

58 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

the  enjoyment  and  vigor  following  upon  a  feast  made 
possible  by  a  successful  hunting  or  fishing  expedition, 
tend  to  fix  in  well-defined  habits  the  use  of  certain  sea- 
sons, places,  and  especially  methods  of  the  enterprise, 
so  that  when  the  needs  recur  they  are  likely  to  be  met 
in  the  previously  successful  manner.  As  Professor 
Sumner  has  said:  "From  recurrent  needs  arise  habits 
for  the  individual  and  customs  for  the  group,  but 
these  results  are  consequences  which  were  never  con- 
scious and  never  foreseen  or  intended."  * 

Not  only  does  the  psychology  of  habit  show  how 
customs  may  arise  unconsciously,  but  it  throws  light 
upon  the  source  of  the  sanctions  which  customs  mani- 
fest. These  sanctions  are  inherent  in  the  habit  or  cus- 
tom. The  history  of  dress  seems  to  show  that  it  origi- 
nated with  amulets  and  ornaments  and  was  fostered 
by  the  love  of  display  which  it  favored,  but  its  estab- 
lishment resulted  in  the  feeling  that  it  was  proper  to 
conceal  the  body,  that  is,  the  habit  of  having  the  body 
covered  must  not  be  broken.  This  is  the  ground  for 
saying  that  the  custom  of  wearing  clothing  created 
modestj^  W.  I.  Thomas  has  applied  this  psychological 
principle  fruitfully  to  the  explanation  of  exogamy,  the 
custom  of  marrying  outside  one's  tribe.  "When  for 
any  reason  there  is  established  in  a  group  a  tendency 
toward  a  practice,  then  the  tendency  is  likely  to  be- 
come established  as  a  habit,  and  regarded  as  right, 
binding,  and  inevitable :  it  is  moral  and  its  contrary  is 
immoral.  When  we  consider  the  binding  nature  of  the 
food  taboos,  of  the  couvade,  and  of  the  regulation  that 
a  man  shall  not  speak  to  or  look  at  his  mother-in-law 
^  W.  G.  Sumner,  Folkways,  pp.  4  f. 
59 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

or  sister,  we  can  understand  how  the  habit  of  marry- 
ing out,  introduced  through  the  charm  of  unfamiliar- 
ity,  becomes  a  binding  habit."  ^  Habitual  actions 
estabhsh  themselves  as  the  lines  of  least  resistance. 
They  are  familiar  and  put  the  subject  of  them  at  ease. 
He  is  at  home  in  them.  So  much  is  this  the  case  that 
in  moments  of  leisure,  the  successfully  thrilling  events 
of  the  chase  or  battle  are  often  reenacted,  and  this  is 
undoubtedly  an  important  factor  in  the  origin  of  cere- 
monials. They  serve  to  reinstate  the  emotional  expe- 
riences of  the  real  events.  How  closely  the  savage  is 
held  to  the  form  of  his  original  successful  activities  is 
shown  by  his  insistence  upon  reproducing  features  of 
those  activities  which  in  reality  are  incidental.  But 
apparently  these  incidental  and  irrelevant  factors 
have  as  strong  "sanctions"  as  those  which  are  neces- 
sary. "A  party  of  Eskimos  met  with  no  game.  One  of 
them  returned  to  their  sledges  and  got  the  ham  bone 
of  a  dog  to  eat.  As  he  returned  with  the  ham  bone  in 
his  hand  he  met  and  killed  a  seal.  Ever  afterwards  he 
carried  a  ham  bone  in  his  hand  when  hunting."  ^ 
Among  the  Malays,^  those  who  work  in  the  mines  are 
required  to  wear  special  clothing  and  speak  a  particu- 
lar language,  as  those  who  first  worked  in  them.  Suc- 
cess in  securing  the  ore  is  apparently  as  dependent 
upon  the  use  of  the  ancient  coat  and  speech  as  upon 
skill  and  labor. 

The  fact  that  habits  and  customs  gain  sanctions  or 
sacredness  with  age  is  further  evidence  that  the  force 

*  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  p.  196. 
^  Quoted  by  W.  G.  Sumner,  Folkways,  p.  25. 
'  W.  W.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  pp.  253,  257. 

60 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

or  strength  of  habit  is  the  essence  of  its  sanctity. 
When  particularly  important  things  are  to  be  done, 
the  tendency  is  to  employ  older  instruments  or 
methods,  although  the  newer  ways  may  be  easier  and 
more  efficient.  Among  the  Central  Australians,  for 
example,  the  firestick  is  used  in  the  ceremony  of  cir- 
cumcision after  stone  implements  become  known. ^ 
Frazer^  gives  many  instances  in  which  stone  instru- 
ments were  used  in  sacred  rites  after  iron  was  discov- 
ered. A  Hottentot  priest  would  use  a  sharp  splint  of 
quartz  rather  than  a  sharp  knife  in  sacrificing  an 
animal  or  in  performing  circumcision.  It  is  common  to 
find  the  older  method  of  making  fire  by  friction  em- 
ployed in  temples  and  rituals  long  after  it  has  been 
discarded  in  ordinary  matters.  In  times  of  defeat  or 
disaster,  when  the  most  powerful  means  of  success  and 
safety  were  needed,  ancient  customs,  such  as  human 
sacrifice,  were  revived.^ 

Those  customs  which  have  the  greatest  importance 
are  those  which  concern  the  whole  group  most  vitally. 
Such  are  the  customs  which  have  to  do  with  procuring 
and  distributing  food,  birth  of  children,  initiation  of 
youth,  marriage,  death,  war.  In  all  these  things  the 
life  of  the  whole  group  is  involved,  and  the  mainte- 
nance of  such  customs  springs  from  the  powerful,  un- 
reasoning "  will  to  live"  of  the  entire  group.  Any  irreg- 
ularity on  the  part  of  an  individual  is  met  by  the  full 
force  of  the  entire  group.  This  protection  of  these 
highly  socialized  interests  is  psychological  in  so  far  as 

^  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  401,  note. 
^  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  i,  p.  345. 
'  Ibid.,  vol.  ii,  pp.  39  f. 

61 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

it  is  due  to  the  unquestioning  obedience  and  super- 
stitious fear  of  the  primitive  mind,  but  there  are  also 
estabhshed  official  methods  for  punishing  the  viola- 
tion of  custom.  The  old  men,  the  chiefs,  or  the  council 
guard  the  traditions  and  in  many  cases  fix  and  author- 
ize the  execution  of  the  penalty.  Often  the  whole 
group,  as  in  the  stoning  of  a  culprit  among  the  Jews, 
or  in  lynching  criminals  on  the  early  American  fron- 
tier, becomes  the  custodian  of  its  customs.  The  sanc- 
tions for  these  customs  are  most  vital.  They  are 
practical  and  emotional,  for  they  have  developed 
through  generations  and  constitute  the  inmost  core  of 
the  common  life.  Thus,  from  many  sides,  there  is  evi- 
dence that  it  is  the  nature  of  custom  to  develop  and 
accumulate  to  itself  authority  and  inviolability. 

This  furnishes  the  basis  for  a  psychological  explana- 
tion of  taboo.  The  very  disposition  to  act  in  a  certain 
way  affords  resistance  to  any  deviation  from  that 
course.  There  is  abundant  proof  that  anything  new, 
strange,  or  unusual  fills  the  savage  with  fear.  In  some 
countries  the  equivalent  word  for  taboo  denotes  all 
things  unusual.  In  the  Marquesas  anything  different 
from  ordinary  custom  is  called  taboo.  There  is  fear  of 
strangers  and  of  unexpected  events.  When  animals 
act  contrary  to  their  ordinary  habits  the  Kafirs  regard 
them  as  omens.  Upon  going  into  a  new  country, 
starting  a  war  expedition,  planting  a  crop,  or  building 
a  house,  ceremonies  are  performed  to  avoid  evil  con- 
sequences.^ 

The  absence  of  any  adequate  knowledge  of  causes 
and  the  extreme  suggestibility  of  the  savage  mind 

'  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose,  pp.  22  f. 

62 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

confirm  the  aversion  to  innovation,  for  when  calamity- 
does  occur  it  is  not  difiicult  to  discover  some  novel  ele- 
ment in  the  situation  to  explain  the  disaster.  White 
men,  at  their  first  contact  with  lower  races,  are  thus 
the  cause  of  pestilence,  famine,  and  drouth.  On  the 
Nicobar  islands  some  natives  who  had  just  begun  to 
make  pottery  died.  The  art  was  given  up  and  never 
again  attempted.*  Experience  seems  therefore  con- 
stantly to  operate  toward  strengthening  the  estab- 
lished custom.  The  familiar  habit  preoccupies  the 
mind  so  that  its  bad  eflFects  are  not  noticed,  while  all 
evils  resulting  from,  or  coincident  with,  the  novel 
events  are  magnified. 

In  the  light  of  the  foregoing  psychological  data,  it 
is  possible  to  suggest  more  definitely  the  basis  upon 
which  taboos  have  arisen  and  to  account  for  the  vari- 
ous objects  around  which  the  taboos  cluster  or  from 
which  they  radiate.  Crawley  has  presented  many 
facts  concerning  social  and  sexual  taboos  which  con- 
tribute to  the  organization  of  a  conception  of  the 
whole  subject  in  a  significant  way.  He  himself  seems 
limited  in  his  theory  by  the  assumption  that  ideas 
underlie  all  practices.  For  example,  he  puts  an  undue 
ideational  content  into  the  fear  of  the  savage.  That 
there  is  an  attempt  to  escape  the  terminology  of  in- 
tellectualism  is  seen  in  his  use  of  the  expression, 
^'physiological  thought,  subconsciously  arising  from 
and  concentrating  upon  physiological  functions." 
But  why  still  call  this  "thought".^  The  expression 
"instinctive  reaction"  would  perhaps  avoid  the  ob- 
jectionable implications  and  yet  serve  the  purpose  of 

*  W.  G.  Sumner,  Folkways,  p.  24. 
63 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  author.  Although  he  constantly  verges  upon  the 
functional  explanation  of  taboo  to  which  his  abun- 
dant, well-selected  materials  point,  yet  he  never  seems 
quite  to  grasp  it.  The  separation  of  the  sexes  he  at- 
tributes to  sexual  taboos,  and  then  in  turn  accounts 
for  these  taboos  by  "segregation  due  to  and  enforced 
by  human  ideas  of  human  relations."  ^  The  more 
defensible  position  would  be  that  the  segregation  of 
the  sexes  was  due  to  natural  causes,  such  as  occu- 
pation, food  supply,  capacities,  and  interests.  The 
characteristic  habits  of  each  sex  which  thus  arose 
brought  their  natural  sanctions  and  restraints,  or 
taboos.  These  taboos  in  turn  exercised  a  reciprocal 
influence  and  contributed  to  emphasize  the  segrega- 
tion from  which  they  originally  arose. 

This  view  of  taboo  gets  impressive  confirmation  by 
putting  it  in  relation  to  the  natural  social  divisions 
and  groupings  which  arise  in  primitive  society  in  the 
way  indicated  in  the  last  chapter.  Taboos  may  be 
classified  with  reference  to  the  things  which  possess 
taboo  most  powerfully.  These  are  sex;  leaders,  such  as 
kings,  chiefs,  priests;  strangers;  and  the  dead.  It  has 
been  shown  that  the  most  radical  cleavage  within  the 
social  group  or  tribe  is  determined  by  the  habits  of  the 
sexes  in  getting  food  and  carrying  on  the  immediate 
life-sustaining  processes.  The  sex-industry  divisions 
have  been  considered  with  reference  to  the  characteris- 
tic habits  and  temperaments  which  they  foster.  The 
development  of  such  habits  tends,  upon  the  psycholo- 
gical principles  stated  above,  to  limit  each  sex  to  its 
own  peculiar  mode  of  life.   Therefore  these  habits  or 

^  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose,  p.  35. 
64 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

customs  hold  each  sex  to  certain  activities  which  are 
taboo  to  the  other.   Woman  comes  to  have  her  pecul- 
iar sphere  and  man  his.  These  are  not  determined  by 
legislation  or  decrees.    Even  the  tribes  in  which  they 
are  strongest  could  not  give  a  connected  account  of 
them.   They  are  so  deep  seated,  so  automatic  and  un- 
conscious, that  they  become  apparent  in  their  entire 
scope  to  the  trained  observer  only  after  seeing  them 
acted  out.   Illustrations  of  the  taboos  between  the  sex 
groups,  which  are  also  the  industrial  groups,  are  abun- 
dant.   Among  the  Todas,  men  care  for  the  buffaloes, 
and  women  may  not  approach  the  dairy  nor  the  dairy- 
man.   In  the  Marquesas  Islands  the  use  of  canoes  is 
prohibited    to    women;   ^a^'a-making   belongs    exclu- 
sively to  the  women.   It  is  quite  a  universal  rule  that 
before  and  during  war  and  hunting  expeditions  men 
are  forbidden  even  the  sight  of  a  woman.    Indeed,  if  a 
woman  looks  upon  the  warrior  or  soldier  he  is  thereby 
weakened  and  she  may,  in  many  tribes,  be  put  to 
death.   "Woman  has  generally  been  debarred  more  or 
less  from  the  public  and  civil  rights  of  men.  This  is  an 
extension  of  the  biological  difference  of  occupation, 
sometimes  exaggerated  into  seclusion  amongst  poly- 
gamous races,  and   into   somewhat  of  inferiority  in 
martial  and  feudal  societies."   From  this  base  line  of 
occupations  the  reciprocal  taboos  extend  to  all  kinds 
of  activities  and  possessions.  In  many  tribes  the  men 
and  women  live  in  separate  houses  which  are  rigidly 
taboo  to  the  opposite  sex.    They  then  meet  outside 
the  village,  in  the  bush  or  forest.  Family  life  is  there- 
fore impossible.    Men  and  women  eat  different  food. 
Women  worship  female  and  men  male  deities.   Often 

65 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

certain  words,  especially  the  names  of  men  and  of 
their  own  husbands,  are  forbidden  to  women.  The 
usual  separation  of  the  sexes  is  universally  more  com- 
plete and  rigid  during  those  periods  in  which  "woman 
is  most  a  woman,"  that  is,  during  pregnancy,  child- 
birth, and  menstruation. 

It  is  true  that  the  habitual  attitude  of  man  toward 
woman  generally  involves  an  assumption  of  superior- 
ity, and  he  undoubtedly  arrogates  to  himself  privi- 
leges which  she  is  not  allowed.  He  displays  a  bearing 
of  haughtiness  and  disdain,  while  she  is  servile  and 
compliant.  But  it  is  not  so  in  all  stages.  In  many 
peoples  the  woman  has  the  strong  hand  by  the  pos- 
session of  property  and  by  being  the  head  of  the 
family.  Where  war  and  hunting  develop  the  motor 
tendencies  of  the  male  and  train  him  to  the  mastery, 
there  he  is  most  likely  to  exhibit  hauteur  toward 
woman,  while  in  such  societies  she  inclines  by  habit 
to  acquiescence.  It  is  interestingly  true  that  man  and 
woman  in  all  societies,  circumscribed  as  they  are  by 
their  functions  and  habits,  remain  more  or  less  outside 
each  other's  sphere,  and  are  in  so  far  strangers  to  one 
another.  This  element  of  strangeness,  of  unfamiliarity, 
is  the  essence  of  that  which  is  taboo. ^ 

Another  illustration  of  the  development  of  taboo 
through  habit  is  found  in  the  way  in  which  kings, 
war-chiefs,   and    prominent    functionaries    generally 

^  If  we  could  get  back  of  the  rather  one-sided  development  of  our 
social  consciousness,  due  to  "the  way  in  which  the  male  sex  has  practi- 
cally monopolized  the  expression  of  thought,"  the  reciprocal  exclusive- 
ness  of  the  spheres  of  man  and  woman  would  be  more  apparent.  Cf. 
Ernest  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose,  p.  57. 

66 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

become  set  apart,  separated,  and  consecrated.  Kings 
are  evolved  chiefs,  and  chiefs  gained  their  position  in 
early  society  by  actual  leadership  in  war  and  other 
exploits,  much  as,  among  animals,  the  leader  of  the 
pack  wins  his  place  by  power  and  skill.  His  achieve- 
ments mark  him  as  different  from  his  fellows,  and  he 
proves  that  he  is  different  by  his  greater  deeds.  He 
habitually  stands  in  a  superior  relation  by  natural 
merit.  This  high  station,  sustained  by  so  many  sur- 
prising deeds,  works  powerfully  upon  the  imagination, 
and  as  society  is  more  highly  organized  under  such 
leadership,  the  chief  or  king  is  regarded  with  increas- 
ing awe:  he  becomes  more  taboo.  The  more  powerful 
a  king,  the  more  taboo  he  is.  It  would  be  the  same  to 
say  that  the  greater,  more  wonderful  things  he  does, 
the  more  caution  is  exercised  concerning  him.  This 
attitude  toward  the  chief  or  king  is  found  more  highly 
developed  in  reference  to  the  great  gods  where  the 
conception  of  such  gods  is  attained.  Whatever  be- 
longs to  the  god  is  taboo,  —  the  places  where  he  lives 
and  all  the  things  which  his  life  touches  are  taboo. 
The  places  of  the  theophanies,  like  Bethel  in  Hebrew 
history,  are  taboo.  Any  one  entering  upon  special 
undertakings  makes  himself  taboo  for  the  purpose  by 
certain  rites  uniting  him  with  the  divine,  as  did  the 
Nazarite.  i 

Another  development  of  taboo  involving  the  same 
factor  of  customary  reactions  and  the  correlative 
restraints  is  to  be  found  in  the  treatment  of  the  dead. 
Without  entering  into  the  discussion  of  the  nature  of 
ghosts  and  spirits,  it  may  be  noted  that  to  primitive 
people  the  dead  are  not  lifeless.  On  the  contrary,  they 

67 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

carry  on  as  many  or  more  activities,  and  often  the 
same  kind,  as  during  their  earthly  Hfe.  The  departed 
ancestors  and  relatives  of  the  savage  simply  constitute 
another  society,  or  at  least  sustain  definite  relations 
to  the  living  which  have  to  be  taken  into  account. 
The  dead  must  be  properly  buried,  fed,  visited.  One 
of  the  most  common  requirements  is  that  the  corpse 
must  not  be  touched,  but  it  is  also  true  that  the  living 
under  many  circumstances  must  not  be  touched.  In 
some  cases  the  dead  are  treated  as  having  more  power 
than  before  death,  thus  becoming  by  so  much  a  differ- 
ent order  of  beings  and  therefore  more  taboo. 

The  primary  determinations  of  taboo  are,  then, 
those  life-processes  which  take  on  relatively  stable 
forms,  such  as  reproduction  and  tribal  organization, 
including  relations  with  the  dead.  These  are  the  lines 
of  interest,  of  habit.  The  particular  objects  which  are 
taboo  are  those  in  which  these  processes  focus,  that  is, 
man  over  against  woman;  the  king  over  against  the 
members  of  the  tribe;  the  dead  as  contrasted  with  the 
living.  By  the  same  principle,  members  of  different 
castes  are  taboo  to  each  other,  as  are  members  of 
different  tribes. 

A  secondary  development  of  taboo  also  follows  the 
law  of  habit,  and  the  objects  thus  involved  may  be 
taken  as  becoming  taboo  through  association  with  the 
main  factors  in  the  life  activities.  In  the  nature  of  the 
case,  it  is  not  possible  to  make  a  sharp  classification 
here,  but  taboos  seem  to  appear  in  areas,  radiating 
from  centres  in  which  they  more  vitally  inhere,  to 
marginal  objects  quite  indifferent  in  themselves. 
Thus  the  clothing  and  discarded  food  of  the  king 

68 


CUSTOM  AND  TABOO 

derive  the  taboo  quality  from  his  person.  There  is, 
however,  no  limit  to  the  extent  of  this  radiation  or 
transmission.  It  is  consequently  not  only  what  the 
king  touches  but  what  he  sees,  mentions,  points  at, 
and  even  what  he  mentally  refers  to,  which  becomes 
taboo.  Anything  detached  from  the  body,  —  clothing, 
nail  parings,  hair,  blood,  excrement,  —  carries  the 
quality  of  the  person  and  is  therefore  dangerous.  In 
the  hands  of  enemies  who  know  how  to  handle  such 
things,  they  may  be  used  as  charms  against  one. 

The  dangerous  qualities  of  woman,  especially  dur- 
ing pregnancy  and  childbirth,  make  it  necessary  to 
seclude  her  even  more  than  at  other  times.  Other- 
wise she  would  infect  everything.  The  taboo  of  the 
infant  is  apparently  derived  from  the  mother.  Often 
the  vessels  used  by  her  during  seclusion  must  be 
burned.  It  is  not  necessary  to  cite  further  details  nor 
to  point  out  that  taboo  radiates  in  the  same  infectious 
way  from  the  dead,  so  that  in  many  places  even  the 
clothing  of  the  mourners  must  be  burned  when  their 
period  of  mourning  is  completed. 

Another  feature  of  taboo  which  may  be  brought 
under  the  functional  interpretation  is  the  differentia- 
tion into  holiness  and  uncleanness.  It  is  agreed  among 
students  of  the  subject  that  in  the  earlier  stages  there 
was  no  differentiation.  Robertson  Smith  holds  that 
the  irrationality  of  the  laws  of  uncleanness  shows  that 
they  are  survivals  of  primitive  religion.  Holiness  is 
like  uncleanness  in  being  contagious  and  dangerous. 
He  shows,  for  example,  that  in  the  higher  Semitic 
religions  swine  were  taboo,  but  that  it  is  an  open  ques- 
tion whether  this  was  because  the  animal  was  holy  or 

69 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

because  it  was  unclean.  The  differentiation  of  taboos 
into  holy  and  unclean  was  reached  only  in  the  later 
development  of  the  Semitic  religion,  and  then  appar- 
ently under  the  operation  of  utilitarian  influences  and 
of  race  prejudice.  On  the  whole,  those  things  which 
were  identified  with  the  welfare  of  society  and  which 
were  thus  closely  related  to  the  service  of  God  were 
considered  hoty,  while  acts  and  objects  which  were 
novel  or  foreign  were  attributed  to  evil  spirits  and  to 
foreign  gods  and  were  therefore  unclean. 

It  will  have  been  noticed  that  little  has  been  said 
in  this  chapter  concerning  the  relation  of  taboo  to 
spirits.  The  reasons  for  this  will  be  found  in  the  later 
discussion  of  spirits  and  of  animism.  The  means  of 
overcoming  taboos  has  not  been  treated  here  because 
it  is  involved  in  the  subject  of  sacrifice,  to  which  a 
chapter  is  devoted. 


CHAPTER  V 

CEREMONIALS   AND    MAGIC 

In  its  broadest  use  the  word  custom  designates  all 
the  characteristic  life-habits  of  a  people,  their  lan- 
guage, dress,  etiquette,  occupations,  modes  of  travel, 
as  well  as  their  festivals,  celebrations,  and  various 
ritual  observances.  In  this  sense  custom  is  equivalent 
to  mores  or  folk-ways.  Ceremonials  are  particular  cus- 
toms of  public  character  and  significance,  conducted 
under  the  authority  of  the  leaders  of  the  group.  These 
ceremonial  customs  arise  in  crises  where  there  is  great 
emotional  intensity.  They  acquire  the  sanction  of 
long  usage  and  tend  to  become  elaborated  into  highly 
formal,  ritualistic  observances.  They  constitute  the 
cultus  and  afford  the  most  complete  expression  of 
what  later  comes  to  be  known  as  religion. 

Functional  psychology  is  prepared  to  accept  these 
ceremonials  as  the  most  important  factors  in  primi- 
tive religion,  for  they  are  just  such  motor  reactions 
as  belong  to  a  relatively  simple  and  unreflective  stage 
of  development.  The  main  questions  with  refer- 
ence to  these  ceremonials,  in  the  functional  view,  do 
not  concern  their  underlying  ideas  or  systems  of  be- 
liefs, but  rather  their  practical  and  emotional  signifi- 
cance. The  proper  subject  of  investigation  is  the 
behavior  itself  and  its  effects.  Through  these,  taken 
in  their  whole  setting,  the  moving  impulses  and  stim- 
uli may  be  discerned.  Students  of  animal  and  of  child 

71 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

life  no  longer  search  for  complex  motives  and  clear 
ideas  as  the  sources  of  given  actions.  They  concern 
themselves  more  with  the  motor  reactions  and  the 
total  situation  in  which  these  occur.  In  the  same  way 
primitive  life  and  particularly  primitive  religious  life 
should  be  investigated.  The  proper  question  here 
is  not  what  is  believed  or  what  is  thought,  but  what  is 
done,  what  is  effected.  Proceeding  in  this  way,  it  is 
possible  to  deal  with  the  objective,  tangible  realities  of 
primitive  religion  and  to  see  these  realities  in  relation 
to  the  actual  living  experiences  from  which  they  arise 
and  to  which  they  contribute. 

The  most  important  feature  of  these  ceremonials, 
that  which  distinguishes  them  and  makes  them  reli- 
gious acts,  is  their  public  and  social  character.  They 
belong  to  the  whole  group  and  are  conducted  by 
its  members.  Or,  if  the  ritual  is  in  some  sense  the 
property  of  one  or  more  individuals,  its  performance 
is  authorized  by  the  leaders  of  the  tribe  and  eagerly 
witnessed  by  the  members.  In  this  way  the  social  side 
is  dominant  and  controlling.  It  would  be  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say  that  all  ceremonies  in  which  the  whole 
group  cooperates  with  keen  emotional  interest  are 
religious,  and  that  all  religious  acts  are  distinguished 
by  this  social  quality.  It  is  because  these  ceremonials 
are  social  and  therefore  have  the  massive  and  corpo- 
rate value  of  the  entire  community  consciousness  that 
they  attain  the  distinctive  character  which  entitles 
them  to  be  called  religious.  "Religion  in  primitive 
society  may  be  regarded  as  primarily  a  system  for  the 
controlling  of  the  group  with  reference  to  the  ends 
which  are  felt  most  acutely  by  the  group  as  a  group. 

72 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

.  .  .  All  practices  designed  to  do  this  are  religious, 
whether  they  are  definite  forms  of  worship  or  not. 
Among  these  we  should  class  the  complicated  initia- 
tion ceremonies  of  many  peoples,  tribal  organization, 
involving  the  regulation  of  the  individual's  life  in  the 
most  minute  details,  his  naming,  his  eating,  his  hunt- 
ing, where  he  may  go,  whom  he  may  marry,  and  his 
conduct  toward  various  members  of  the  tribe."  ^ 

That  the  religious  ceremonials  are  preeminently 
social  or  group  reactions  is  emphasized  by  noting  the 
occasions  on  which  they  occur.  It  is  found  that  they 
are  held  in  connection  with  the  fundamental  and 
crucial  biological  processes,  involving  the  very  exis- 
tence and  welfare  of  the  group. ^  They  are  dramatic 
reproductions  and  representations  of  these  processes 
and  particularly  of  the  crises  in  nature  and  in  human 
life.  The  chief  occasions  of  ceremonials  may  be  classi- 
fied as  follows: 

Phejiomena  in  Nature.  —  These  are  the  recurring 
events  in  the  cycle  of  the  seasons  most  intimately 
connected  with  human  welfare.  Here  belong  the  cele- 
brations of  returning  seed  time  and  of  harvest,  the 
opening  of  the  fishing  and  of  the  hunting  seasons. 
In  sections  where  the  growth  of  vegetation  is  obvi- 
ously dependent  upon  the  rainfall,  as  among  the  Zuni 
Indians,  the  ceremonies  are  almost  wholly  concerned 
with  that  event.  It  is  in  times  of  drouth  that  the 
ceremonies  are  most  elaborated  and  most  carefully 
executed.    Among  the  Arabs  the  fertilization  of  the 

^  Irving  King,  Dirfferentiation  of  the  Religious  Consciousness,  p.  39. 
2  Ernest  Crawley,  "  The  Origin  and  Function  of  Religion,"  Socio- 
logical Papers,  pp.  245  f. 

73 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

date-palm  sets  the  season  and  the  pattern  for  impor* 
tant  ceremonials.  Many  ceremonies  which  have  been 
interpreted  as  dramatizations  of  creation  myths  are  in 
all  probability  concerned  with  the  immediate  present 
processes  of  reproduction  of  vegetable  and  animal  life. 
The  appropriation  of  the  new  grain  or  fruit  is  not 
allowable  for  the  individual  until  the  group  ceremonies 
in  reference  to  the  first-fruits  have  been  performed. 
In  the  same  way  the  use  of  the  herd  is  begun  by  the 
ceremonial  appropriation  of  the  firstlings  of  the  flock. 

Birth,  Initiation,  and  Marriage.  —  Important  rites 
attend  the  birth  of  a  child  and  his  reception  in  the 
camp.  How  critical  and  elemental  this  matter  is  may 
perhaps  be  appreciated  best  by  reflecting  that  the 
children  are  not  infrequently  put  to  death  because 
they  jeopardize  the  care  of  older  children  and  encum- 
ber the  tribe.  The  child  is  named  after  a  prescribed 
manner  and  often  quite  formally.  All  people  have 
elaborate  customs  for  the  initiation  of  the  youth  into 
full  participation  in  the  life  of  the  tribe.  These  cere- 
monies begin  about  the  age  of  ten  and  culminate  at 
the  age  of  eighteen  or  twenty.  They  represent  to 
the  youth  the  historic  or  mythological  past  of  the 
tribe  through  symbolic  dances,  the  display  of  sacred 
objects  of  which  he  has  hitherto  been  kept  in  igno- 
rance, the  revealing  of  secret  names,  and  the  impart- 
ation  of  certain  tribal  or  totem  markings. 

Marriage  is  everywhere  regarded  as  a  social  matter, 
that  is,  as  an  affair  of  the  group.  This  is  seen  particu- 
larly in  the  restrictions  as  to  who  may  marry.  It  is 
customary  to  require  persons  to  marry  outside  their 
group  or  tribe.  Even  among  the  low  tribes  of  Austra- 

74 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

lia  the  clan  and  totem  groups  are  well  established  and 
the  limits  within  which  selection  of  mates  can  be  made 
are  rigidly  preserved.  The  establishment  of  such  in- 
timate relations  with  other  families  and  members  of 
the  opposite  sex  is  a  matter  of  such  keen  social  inter- 
est and  of  such  hazard  that  it  is  safeguarded  by  va- 
rious elaborate  ceremonies. 

Death  and  Burial.  —  The  death  of  a  member  of  a 
primitive  group  involves  definite  obligations  upon 
those  nearest  of  kin  for  the  discharge  of  which  they  are 
responsible  to  the  whole  group.  There  are  prescribed 
modes  of  burial,  provision  for  the  welfare  and  con- 
tentment of  the  deceased,  and  precautions  of  various 
kinds  against  any  unfriendlj^  acts  of  either  the  living 
or  the  dead.  The  obsequies,  feeding  of  the  dead,  care 
of  the  grave,  and  special  observances  may  continue 
for  weeks  or  months,  and  among  many  peoples  they 
extend  through  years. 

War  and  the  Treatment  of  Strangers.  —  In  carrying 
out  any  interest  savage  tribes  usually  find  innumer- 
able occasions  for  war.  The  war  ceremonials  are  there- 
fore much  in  evidence.  They  consist  of  councils,  as- 
semblages, decorations,  fasts,  parades,  manoeuvres, 
dances,  triumphal  processions,  feasts.  Here  as  much 
as,  or  more  than,  in  any  other  crisis  the  sense  of  tribal 
unity  and  power  are  immediately  felt.  The  tension  is 
great  and  the  value  of  solidarity  is  proved  in  every 
success  or  failure.  It  is  consequently  to  be  expected 
that  these  war  ceremonials  should  be  of  great  signifi- 
cance in  religious  history.  Contrasted  with  the  hos- 
tility of  war  are  the  customs  of  hospitality.  These 
include  the  signs  of  greeting  which  strangers  employ, 

75 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  methods  of  establishing  relations  of  peace,  as  by- 
eating,  drinking,  smoking  together,  exchanging  gifts, 
and  mingling  blood. 

But  when  it  is  shown  that  the  ceremonials  are 
religious  primarily  because  they  are  social,  it  yet 
remains  to  consider  two  other  facts  concerning  them. 
They  are  magical  and  have  reference  to  spirits.  It  is 
usually  maintained  by  writers  upon  primitive  religion 
that  religion  is  sharply  contrasted  with  magic,  and 
that  its  most  distinguishing  mark  is  belief  in  and  pro- 
pitiation of  spirits.  But  the  view  set  forth  here  is  that 
magic  and  spiritism  are  characteristic  features  of  all 
activities  and  interests  of  the  savage  and  are  not 
peculiar  to  his  religion.  Not  only  his  ceremonials  but 
all  other  activities  also  involve  magic  and  spirits. 
These  cannot,  therefore,  serve  either  negatively  or 
positively  to  delimit  religion  from  other  interests.  In 
justification  of  this  view  a  consideration  of  magic  is 
first  presented. 

Many  writers  put  magic  and  religion  in  sharp  oppo- 
sition to  each  other.  J.  G.  Frazer  holds  that  magic 
signifies  the  necessary  determination  of  one  event  by 
another  in  a  mechanical  and  invariable  manner.  Man 
may  gain  control  of  these  forces  and  make  them  serve 
his  ends.  But  since  the  savage  confused  real  causes 
with  all  manner  of  coincident  and  unrelated  factors, 
his  magic  often  failed  and  he  gradually  lost  faith  in  it. 
Then  the  powers  of  nature  became  occult  and  mysteri- 
ous and  gave  rise  to  the  notion  of  spirits  which  man 
propitiated  and  worshiped.   Thus  religion  arose. 

Lang  and  Jevons  defend  the  opposite  view,  that 
religion   was  prior   and   magic   a  relapse   from  the 

76 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

religious  stage.  According  to  Jevons  the  most  primi- 
tive attitude  is  that  of  an  inductive  though  erroneous 
reasoning  which  undertakes  to  control  various  pro- 
cesses through  resemblances  or  accidental  relations. 
Then  there  arises  for  the  more  intelligent  a  distinction 
between  the  natural  things  which  can  be  controlled 
by  man  and  the  supernatural  forces  which  are  beyond 
him.  The  latter  give  rise  to  religion,  that  is,  an  effort 
to  form  an  alliance  with  these  friendly  superior  powers. 
The  less  intelligent  members  of  the  group  do  not 
understand  this  distinction  and  therefore  use  magic, 
continuing  to  employ  "for  the  production  of  both 
classes  of  effects  indiscriminately  those  principles  of 
induction  which  are  common  both  to  savage  and 
scientific  logic."  ^  Lang  explains  the  origin  of  religion 
by  man's  interpretation  of  the  creation  of  the  world  in 
terms  of  his  own  power  to  build  and  construct.  In  this 
anthropomorphic  manner  he  holds  that  very  primitive 
people  attained  the  idea  of  a  great  god.  Magic  results, 
then,  as  in  Jevons'  view,  from  the  deterioration  of 
religion  to  the  point  where  this  idea  of  the  great  god 
gives  way  to  a  great  number  of  spirits  to  be  controlled 
by  occult  means. 

William  Robertson  Smith  finds  the  distinction 
between  religion  and  magic  in  the  fact  that  the  former 
is  social  and  the  latter  individual.  "It  was  the  com- 
munity, and  not  the  individual,  that  was  sure  of  the 
permanent  and  unfailing  help  of  its  deity.  It  was  a 
national,  not  a  personal  providence  that  was  taught 
by  ancient  religion.  So  much  was  this  the  case  that  in 
purely  personal  concerns  the  ancients  were  very  apt  to 
*  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  p.  37. 

77 


PSYCHOLOGY   OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

turn,  not  to  the  recognized  religion  of  the  family  or  of 
the  state,  but  to  magical  superstitions.  .  .  .  Not  only 
did  these  magical  superstitions  lie  outside  religion,  but 
in  all  well-ordered  states  they  were  regarded  as  illicit. 
A  man  had  no  right  to  enter  into  private  relations 
with  supernatural  powers  that  might  help  him  at  the 
expense  of  the  community  to  which  he  belonged.  In 
his  relations  to  the  unseen  he  was  bound  always  to 
think  and  act  with  and  for  the  community,  and  not 
for  himself  alone."  ^ 

With  this  distinction  it  becomes  possible  to  relate 
the  whole  subject  of  magic  to  religion  in  a  thorough- 
going way,  without  attributing  to  the  savage  mind  such 
advanced  ideational,  logical  processes  as  are  involved 
in  the  view  of  Jevons  and  Frazer.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  recognize  that  both  the  group  and  the  individual 
undertake  to  control  phenomena  without  knowledge 
of  their  causes  and  by  means  of  incidental  and  unim- 
portant factors  with  which  the  phenomena  appear  con- 
nected in  the  naive  association  of  ideas  characteristic 
of  the  primitive  mind.  There  does  not  seem  to  be  any 
essential  difference  in  respect  to  the  causal  principle 
between  the  whole  group  of  warriors  attacking  the 
image  of  the  enemy  with  spears  during  the  war  dance, 
in  order  to  weaken  or  destroy  the  distant  enemy,  and 
an  individual  in  secret  thrusting  pins  into  an  effigy  in 
order  to  be  avenged  upon  an  absent  foe.  In  both  cases 
it  is  implied  that  whatever  happens  to  the  image  of  a 

^  W.  Robertson  Smith,  The  Religion  of  the  Semites,  pp.  263  f .  For  fur- 
ther statements  of  the  social  character  of  religion,  pp.  312,  319.  R.  R. 
Marett,  "Is  Taboo  a  Negative  Magic?"  Anthropological  Essays,  p. 
219,  cf.  225,  229. 

78 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

person  happens  to  the  person  himself,  unless  this  mys- 
terious influence  is  counteracted  by  some  powerful 
agency.  The  religious  ceremonials,  requiring,  as  they 
do,  the  cooperation  of  the  group,  may  be  regarded  as 
collective  magic;  while  those  practices  which  are  com- 
monly designated  as  magic  may  be  distinguished  as 
individual  magic.  This  terminology  has  the  decided 
advantage  of  referring  to  the  clear  and  simple  dis- 
tinction between  acts  which  are  social  and  those  which 
are  individual.  It  does  not  involve  the  highly  wrought 
metaphysical  discriminations  belonging  to  the  classi- 
fication of  spirits  into  natural  and  supernatural. 

Upon  endeavoring  to  understand  the  nature  of 
magic,  one  who  approaches  it  from  the  functional 
standpoint  will  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  term 
is  quite  vague  and  shifting  in  its  content.  Instead  of 
attempting  to  define  magic  it  is  more  profitable  to 
indicate  some  things  designated  by  it  without  insisting 
that  they  exhaust  its  possible  meanings.  It  is  agreed, 
for  example,  that  when  a  savage  seeks  to  produce  rain 
by  sprinkling  water  upon  the  ground  he  is  working 
magic.  We  may  class  such  acts  as  imitative  magic, 
whether  performed  by  one  person  alone  or  by  many  in 
concert.  Another  type  of  savage  procedure  is  to  gain 
possession  of  something  which  has  belonged  to  a  per- 
son, it  may  be  an  article  of  clothing  or  even  some  of 
the  earth  upon  which  he  has  walked.  It  is  felt  that  the 
object  shares  in  the  life  of  the  person,  so  that  whatever 
is  done  to  it  is  done  to  the  person.  This  also  is  magic, 
either  individual  or  collective,  and  belongs  to  the 
special  category  of  sympathetic  magic.  In  other  cases 
a  person  or  a  group  of  persons  possesses  such  power- 

79 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ful  qualities  that  people  and  things  may  be  directly 
affected  at  a  distance.  For  example,  the  king's  gaze 
or  even  the  intent  of  his  mind  may  be  so  powerful  as 
to  operate  immediately  through  space,  affecting  re- 
mote chiefs  or  the  sun  itself.  This  may  be  called  direct 
magic,  though  it  is  closely  related  to  sympathetic 
magic,  since  it  is  a  part  of  the  king's  person  which  is 
thus  projected  by  his  gaze  or  by  his  thought.  There 
are  many  other  uses  of  the  term  magic,  but  these 
serve  the  present  purpose.^ 

Illustrations  of  these  different  types  of  magic  in 
public  ceremonials  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely. 
Frazer  cites  many  cases  among  widely  different  peo- 
ples showing  how  the  fertilization  of  grain  and  trees 
is  effected  by  ceremonials  imitating  the  process  of 
impregnation.  The  planting  of  the  crops  is  accom- 
panied by  intercourse  of  the  sexes  or  in  higher  stages 
of  development  by  the  symbolic  acts  of  May  Day, 
Easter,  and  Whitsuntide.  In  England  it  was  custom- 
ary on  these  days  for  young  couples  to  roll  down  a 
slope  together.  "In  various  parts  of  Europe  customs 
have  prevailed  both  at  spring  and  harvest  which  are 
clearly  based  on  the  same  primitive  notion  that  the 
relation  of  the  human  sexes  to  each  other  can  be  so 
used  as  to  quicken  the  growth  of  plants.  For  exam- 
ple, in  the  Ukraine  on  St.  George's  Day  (the  twenty- 
third  of  April)  the  priest  in  his  robes,  attended  by  his 
acolytes,  goes  out  to  the  fields  of  the  village,  where  the 
crops  are  beginning  to  show  green  above  the  ground, 
and  blesses  them.   After  that  the  young  married  peo- 

'  N.  W.  Thomas,  "  Studies  in  Terminology,"  Man,  1904,  p.  163.    Cf. 
A.  C.  Haddon,  Magic  and  Fetishism. 

80 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

pie  lie  down  in  couples  on  the  sown  fields  and  roll 
several  times  over  on  them,  in  the  belief  that  this  will 
promote  the  growth  of  the  crops.  In  some  parts  of 
Russia  the  priest  himself  is  rolled  by  women  over  the 
sprouting  crop,  and  that  without  regard  to  the  mud 
and  holes  which  he  may  encounter  in  his  beneficent 
progress."  ^  It  is  interesting  also  to  notice  that  this 
principle  of  analogy  in  procreation  may  be  expressed 
in  just  the  opposite  manner,  that  is,  bj^  the  imposition 
of  strict  continence,  so  that  the  preservation  of  vigor 
and  energy  will  also  strengthen  the  crops.  Illicit  love 
is  in  any  case  harmful  for  the  fields  and  crops.  This  em- 
phasizes the  point  now  under  discussion,  namely,  that 
public  acts  of  the  same  type  are  magical,  the  difference 
being  that  the  ceremonial  acts  produce  results  which 
are  beneficial,  while  the  illicit  deeds  are  disastrous. 

Public  ceremonials  for  the  production  of  rain  by 
imitating  its  fall  are  widespread;  for  causing  the  sun  to 
shine  by  rekindling  its  light  with  fires  or  by  other 
means  of  renewing  its  waning  strength ;  for  making  the 
wind  to  blow  by  flapping  blankets  to  start  a  breeze. 
These  ceremonies  may  be  conducted  by  individuals 
for  the  group  or  by  the  group  as  a  whole.^  It  is  signifi- 
cant that  when  the  stress  is  greatest,  as  in  times  of 
drouth  or  during  an  eclipse,  the  ceremonies  become 
more  completely  tribal  or  social,  doubtless  not  only 
because  the  interest  in  them  is  more  general  but  also 
because  the  greater  number  of  participants,  if  only  as 
spectators,  aids  in  the  efficacy  of  the  performance. 

^  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  ii,  p.  208. 

^  Bureau  of  Ethnohgy,  Bulletin  30,  part  i,  "Handbook  of  American 
Indians,"  p.  959. 

81 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

The  same  tendency  of  the  magical  act  to  be  most 
thoroughly  socialized  where  it  involves  most  acutely 
the  common  good  is  also  seen  in  the  fact  that  the 
ceremonies  occupy  more  members  of  the  group  and 
consume  longer  periods  of  time  in  the  performance 
where  nature  is  most  unfavorable.  The  elaborate  rain- 
making  ceremonies  of  the  Zuni  Indians  confirm  this. 

Collective,  imitative  magic  is  found  in  war  cere- 
monials. In  ancient  Peru,  when  a  war  expedition  was 
contemplated,  they  were  wont  to  starve  certain  black 
sheep  for  some  days  and  then  slay  them,  uttering  the 
incantation,  "As  the  hearts  of  these  beasts  are  weak- 
ened, so  let  our  enemies  be  weakened."  ^  Frazer  cites 
similar  practices  among  the  ancient  Hindoos.  "To  de- 
stroy his  foe  a  man  would  fashion  a  figure  of  him  in  clay 
and  transfix  it  with  an  arrow  which  had  been  barbed 
with  a  thorn  and  winged  w^ith  an  owl's  feather.  Or  he 
would  mould  the  figure  of  wax  and  melt  it  in  fire. 
Sometimes  effigies  of  the  soldiers,  horses,  elephants, 
and  chariots  of  a  hostile  army  were  modeled  in  dough 
and  then  pulled  in  pieces."  ^  This  principle  of  imita- 
tive magic  may  also  be  used  to  aid  an  army.  *'In  the 
island  of  Timor,  while  war  is  being  waged,  the  high 
priest  never  quits  the  temple;  his  food  is  brought  to 
him  or  is  cooked  inside;  day  and  night  he  must  keep 
the  fire  burning,  for  if  he  were  to  let  it  die  out,  disaster 
would  befall  the  warriors  and  w^ould  continue  as  long 
as  the  hearth  was  cold.  Moreover,  he  must  drink  only 
hot  water  during  the  time  the  army  is  absent;  for 
every  draught  of  cold  water  would  damp  the  spirits  of 

^  R.  R.  Marett,  "From  Spell  to  Prayer,"  Folk-Lore,  1904. 
*  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  i,  p.  14. 

82 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

the  people,  so  that  they  could  not  vanquish  the  en- 
emy." ^  In  Madagascar,  while  the  men  are  at  the 
wars,  the  women  keep  up  dances  continuously.  "  They 
believe  that  by  dancing  they  impart  strength,  cour- 
age, and  good  fortune  to  their  husbands."  Frazer 
gives  other  cases  where  fruits  and  stones  are  anointed 
with  oil  by  the  women  at  home  so  that  the  raindrops 
will  rebound  from  them  and  thus  cause  the  bullets  of 
the  enemy  to  fall  harmless  from  their  husbands;  or 
the  women  wave  their  fans  in  order  to  direct  the  bul- 
lets away  from  friends  and  toward  the  foe.  Another 
custom  is  for  the  women  on  the  day  of  battle  to  run 
about  with  guns,  or  sticks  carved  to  look  like  guns, 
and  taking  green  paw-paws  (fruits  shaped  somewhat 
like  a  melon),  they  hack  them  with  knives,  as  if  they 
were  chopping  off  the  heads  of  the  foe.^ 

Much  of  the  collective  magic  characteristic  of  cere- 
monials is  sympathetic  magic.  The  central  element 
here  is  the  possession  of  some  part  of  the  animal  or 
person  in  order  to  derive  his  qualities.  When  a  Zulu 
army  assembles  to  go  forth,  the  warrior  eats  slices  of 
meat  which  are  smeared  with  a  powder  made  of  the 
dried  flesh  of  various  animals,  such  as  the  leopard, 
lion,  elephant,  snakes,  and  so  on;  for  thus  it  is  thought 
that  the  soldiers  will  acquire  the  bravery  and  other 
warlike  qualities  of  these  animals.  It  is  a  common 
practice  to  eat  the  flesh,  particularly  the  heart,  and  to 
drink  the  blood  of  brave  enemies  in  order  to  acquire 
their  qualities.^ 

*  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  i,  p.  31. 
2  Ibid,  vol.  i,  p.  33. 
'  Ibid,  vol.  ii,  pp.  355,  357. 
83 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

It  is  probable  that  the  ceremonies  attending  the 
treatment  of  the  first  catch  of  fish  or  game  are  cases 
of  sympathetic  magic.  In  the  Torres  Straits  the  first 
turtle  caught  during  the  turtle-breeding  season  was 
handed  over  to  the  men  of  the  Turtle  clan,  who 
painted  themselves  to  resemble  the  turtle  and  per- 
formed dances  and  certain  mimetic  acts  to  insure  an 
abundance  of  turtles.  Here  it  may  be  supposed  that 
the  treatment  of  one  member  of  the  species  proceeds 
on  the  notion  that  what  is  done  to  a  part  is  done  to 
the  whole  of  the  class.  This  throws  light  upon  many 
ceremonials  over  the  first  fish  or  animal  or  fruit  taken. 
It  must  be  dealt  with  in  the  accepted  public  man- 
ner before  any  others  of  the  species  may  be  appro- 
priated. 

"Amongst  the  Thlinkeet  of  Alaska  the  first  halibut 
of  the  season  is  carefully  handled  and  addressed  as  a 
chief,  and  a  festival  is  given  in  his  honor,  after  which 
the  fishing  goes  on.  Among  the  tribes  of  the  Lower 
Frazer  River,  when  the  first  sockeye  salmon  of  the 
season  has  been  caught,  the  fisherman  carries  it  to  the 
chief  of  his  tribe,  who  delivers  it  to  his  wife.  She 
prays,  saying  to  the  salmon,  'Who  has  brought  you 
here  to  make  us  happy  "^  We  are  thankful  to  your  chief 
for  sending  you.'  When  she  has  cut  and  roasted  the 
salmon  according  to  certain  prescribed  rules,  the  whole 
tribe  is  invited  and  partakes  of  the  fish,  after  they 
have  purified  themselves  by  drinking  a  decoction  of 
certain  plants,  which  is  regarded  as  a  medicine  for 
cleansing  the  people."^ 

Thus  the  ceremonial  eating  of  the  first  fish  is  a 

^  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  ii,  p.  412. 

84 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

means  of  making  sure  of  the  species  for  the  season's 
food,  on  the  principle  that  what  is  done  to  a  part  is 
done  to  the  whole.  The  ceremonial  care  with  which 
the  first  fish,  animal,  grain,  or  fruit  of  the  season  is 
treated  appears  to  be  just  the  means  of  securing  an 
abundance  of  that  class  of  objects.  The  use  of  one  is 
the  use  of  all,  just  as  the  care  of  a  man's  girdle  is  a  care 
of  the  man  himself.  The  intimate  association  of  the 
part  and  the  whole,  of  the  individual  and  the  species, 
of  the  first-born  and  the  whole  generation  is  the  clue 
to  many  practices  which  are  at  once  religious  and 
magical. 

In  the  initiation  ceremonies  both  mimetic  and  sym- 
pathetic magic  appear.    Among  the  Arunta  tribe  of 
Australia  the  first  of  these  ceremonies  is  the  tossing 
of  boys  of  ten  or  twelve  in  the  air.    The  men  catch 
them  as  they  fall,  while  the  women  dance  round  and 
round  the  group,  swinging  their  arms  and  shouting 
loudly.^  This  ceremony  is  to  make  them  grow  to  man- 
hood.  Perhaps  the  tossing  up  effects  this  in  the  sav- 
age mind.     Frazer  gives  many  instances  of  swinging 
to  promote  the  growth  of  grain;  the  higher  the  priests 
or  peasants  swing,  the  taller  will  the  crops  grow.^   In 
the  second  ceremony  there  are  features  which  seem 
to  accomplish  the  identification  of  the  youth  with  the 
tribe,  including  the  dead  as  well  as  the  living  members. 
The  fur-string  from  a  totem  animal,  the  hair  girdle, 
and  the  pubic  tassel  are  fastened  on  him  to  make  him 
one  of  the  totem-class,  kangaroo,  wildcat,  or  whatever 
the  totem  may  be.    All  these  operate  magically  to 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  214. 

*  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  ii,  p.  33.  Cf.  Appendix,  Note  A. 

85 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

unite  the  youth  with  the  tribe  and  to  impart  to  him 
in  very  literal  ways  the  life  of  the  group.  Thus  con- 
tinuity is  achieved  for  the  tribe.  A  suggestive  feature 
of  the  ceremony  and  one  which  shows  the  thoroughly 
social  character  of  it  is  the  conduct  of  the  women, 
especially  the  relatives  of  the  youth.  While  he  is  in 
the  Bush  recovering  from  the  circumcision,  the  "Mia 
(a  woman  w^hom  his  father  has  married  or  might  have 
married)  may  not  eat  opossum,  or  the  large  lizard,  or 
carpet  snake,  or  any  fat,  as  otherwise  she  would 
retard  her  son's  recovery.  Every  day  she  greases  her 
digging  sticks  and  never  allows  them  out  of  her  sight; 
at  night  time  she  sleeps  with  them  close  to  her  head. 
No  one  is  allowed  to  touch  them.  Every  day  also  she 
rubs  her  body  all  over  with  grease,  as  in  some  way  this 
is  supposed  to  help  her  son's  recovery."  ^  There  is  no 
reason  to  doubt  that  the  central  factors  of  the  initia- 
tioli  ceremonies  are  any  less  magical  than  these  peri- 
pheral factors  which  are  obviously  such.  The  last  of 
the  initiation  ceremonies,  the  Engwura,  strengthens 
the  youth  by  fire  ordeals.  It  imparts  courage  and 
wisdom;  makes  the  men  more  kindly  natured  and  less 
apt  to  quarrel.  In  all  these  ceremonies  the  use  of 
blood  is  common  and  its  efficiency  universally  con- 
sists in  binding  together  and  solidifying  the  group  by 
its  magical  power.  Several  times  during  the  cere- 
monies the  performers  lie  down  in  a  mass  upon  the 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  250.  In 
the  ceremony  wliicli  follows  circumcision  these  authors  note  that  a  chant 
is  sung  which  is  supposed  to  have  the  eflfect  of  promoting  the  growth  of 
the  hair,  —  the  mark  of  maturity.  Biting  the  head  and  chin  are  for  the 
same  purpose. 

86 


CEREMONIALS   AND  MAGIC 

prostrate  novice,  the  pressing  together  of  the  bodies 
having  great  power  of  union  and  inoculation.^ 

Another  instance  of  sympathetic  magic  is  found  in 
the  use  of  the  name  of  an  ancestor,  divinity,  or  man. 
The  name  is  so  much  a  part  of  the  individual  or  object 
that  to  possess  the  name  is  to  have  power  over  him. 
It  is  therefore  frequently  found  that  the  names  of 
persons  and  of  the  divinities  are  kept  secret.  "A 
man's  name  —  or  a  god's  —  is  part  of  himself,  and 
therefore  invocation  and  repetition  of  the  deity's 
name  constitutes  in  itself  an  actual,  if  mystic,  union 
with  the  deity."  '  In  some  Egyptian  prayers  there  is 
sometimes  added  the  reminder  that  the  petitioner 
knows  the  divine  mystic  name. 

The  songs  and  chants  are  also  magical  in  character, 
and  the  volume  of  sound  in  a  chorus  of  voices  makes 
the  effect  more  massive  and  compelling.  One  part 
of  the  initiation  rites  in  South-east  AustraHa,  as  de- 
scribed by  Howitt,  discloses  its  magical  character  so 
clearly  and  in  such  a  t}T)ical  manner  that  it  is  quoted 
here  at  length.  The  general  effect  of  the  ceremonies 
is  to  preserve  continuity  in  the  tribal  life,  and  this  is 
done  by  transferring  to  the  youth  the  mode  of  life  and 
even  the  substance  of  the  ancestors.  In  the  cere- 
monies the  ancestors  are  present,  the  savage  mind 
making  little  distinction  between  a  symbol  and  the 
reality  symbolized.  The  ceremonies  are  not  make- 
believe,  but  to  all  intents  are  the  embodiment  of  the 
actual  being  and  activity  of  the  progenitors  of  the 
tribe.    In  this  instance  a  procession  of  old  men  is 

^  Cf.  Ernest  Crawley,  Mystic  Rose,  p.  374. 
^  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  p.  245. 

87 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

represented  to  those  being  initiated.  "  Great  age  was 
shown,  as  in  all  these  representations,  by  each  man 
walking  in  a  stooping  position,  supported  by  a  staff  in 
each  hand.  After  circling  around  the  boys  twice,  the 
procession  resolved  itself  into  a  ring  in  front  of  the 
boys,  and  the  men  danced  the  usual  magic  dance 
round  one  who  exhibited  his  Jdias  in  the  usual  manner. 
The  men,  then,  ceasing  to  dance,  rushed  to  the  boys 
in  an  excited  manner,  old  Yibai-malian  leading  the 
way,  and  for  the  first  time  went  through  one  of  their 
most  characteristic  performances.  They  all  shouted 
'Ngai,'  meaning  'good,'  and  at  the  same  time  moved 
their  arms  and  hands  as  if  passing  something  from 
themselves  to  the  boys,  who,  being  instructed  by  the 
Kabos,  moved  their  hands  and  arms  as  if  pulling  a 
rope  toward  themselves,  the  palms  of  the  hands  being 
held  upwards.  The  intention  of  this  is  that  the  boys 
shall  be  completely  filled  —  saturated,  I  might  say,  — 
with  the  magic  proceeding  from  the  initiated  and  the 
medicine  men,  so  that  '  Daramulun  will  like  them.'"  ^ 
Further  evidence  of  the  magical  character  of  reli- 
gious ceremonials  is  also  afforded  by  viewing  them  as 
means  of  overcoming  or  producing  taboo.  Taboo  is 
regarded  by  many  writers  as  ''negative  magic,"  ^  and 
to  the  savage  the  surest  way  to  overcome  any  magic 
is  by  other  magic.  The  things  tabooed  are  dangerous 
because  they  are  strange,  mysterious,  and  because  they 
possess  qualities,  such  as  frailty  or  weakness,  which 
one  might  receive  from  contact.  But  whatever  ex- 
planation of  taboo  is  accepted,  it  is  agreed  by  all  that 

*  A.  W.  Howitt,  Native  Tribes  of  South-east  Australia,  p.  535. 
'  R.  R.  Marett,  Anthropological  Essays,  p.  219. 

88 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

any  taboo  may  be  overcome  by  one  or  another  cere- 
monial device.  Crawley  has  made  a  most  thorough 
investigation  of  marriage  ceremonies,  and  his  conclu- 
sion is  that  they  are  employed  to  overcome  the  taboos 
involved,  among  which  the  sexual  taboo  is  the  most 
important.  *' Marriage  ceremonies  neutralize  the 
dangers  attaching  to  union  between  the  sexes,  in  all 
the  complex  meaning  of  those  dangers."  ^  It  was 
shown  in  the  last  chapter  that  the  sexes  are  taboo  be- 
cause of  their  strangeness  and  mystery  for  each  other, 
due  to  the  separation  between  them,  arising  from  dif- 
ferent occupations  and  their  attendant  social  habits. 
The  utmost  caution  is,  therefore,  necessary,  when  they 
are  to  be  united.  This  caution  is  necessary  in  any  cases 
of  ordinary  contact  between  individuals  of  the  same 
sex,  when  they  eat  together  or  live  together  in  any  way. 
Marriage  must  overcome  these  taboos  as  well  as  those 
of  sex.  Accordingly,  these  rites  are  found  univer- 
sally and  with  a  remarkable  similarity.  Crawley  has 
brought  together  an  elaborate  display  of  customs  in 
support  of  this  view.  These  are  summarized  in  what 
follows.  That  they  are  magical  in  character  there  can 
be  no  doubt,  and  that  they  are  religious  in  the  sense  of 
embodying  the  highest  social  sanction  is  evident.  The 
preliminary  marriage  ceremonies  indicate  that  some- 
thing dangerous  is  about  to  be  undertaken,  demanding 
various  kinds  of  caution.  The  bride  and  the  bride- 
groom are  accompanied  by  processions  to  allay  evil 
influences.  Throwing  rice,  flour,  nuts,  or  sweetmeats 
had  the  same  purpose  originally.  In  many  countries 
the  parties  about  to  wed  must  bathe,  be  fumigated, 

^  Ernest  Crawle3%  The  Mystic  Rose,  p.  322. 
89 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  fast  for  purification.  Weddings  take  place  at 
night,  when  female  shyness  and  timidity  are  more 
easily  overcome  and  when  the  evil  eye  cannot  harm. 
Various  means  of  concealment  such  as  veils  and  dis- 
guises are  employed,  so  that  often  the  bridegroom 
never  sees  the  bride  until  the  marriage  is  consum- 
mated, and  then  frequently  both  are  kept  shut  up 
within  the  house  for  days.  In  some  cases  each  party 
is  wedded  first  to  a  third  thing,  such  as  a  tree,  to  insure 
harmlessness.  Restrictions  are  sometimes  maintained 
after  marriage,  such  as  silence,  refraining  from  sleep, 
and  from  food.  Among  many  low  tribes  the  husband 
is  protected  from  the  dangers  of  intercourse  by  the 
ceremonial  in  which  the  bride  first  receives  other  men. 
Sometimes  defloration  is  performed  by  the  priest. 
Ceremonial  fights  and  flights  signifying  sexual  oppo- 
sition and  the  necessity  for  caution  are  common.  It  is 
the  sex  and  not  the  tribe  or  family  from  which  the 
bride  is  abducted.  The  most  important  ceremonies  in 
marriage  are  those  in  which  the  union  takes  place  by 
an  exchange  between  the  parties  of  some  part  of  them- 
selves, a  lock  of  hair,  piece  of  clothing,  food,  or  drink, 
special  gifts,  or  by  the  actual  exchange  of  blood.  The 
hands  may  be  joined  or  the  heads  pressed  together,  but 
the  commonest  ceremony  of  union  is  that  of  eating 
and  drinking  together.  Less  ceremonial,  that  is,  a 
slighter  amount  of  magic,  is  necessary  in  the  marriage 
of  a  widow,  since  most  of  the  danger  has  been  already 
overcome  in  her  case. 

In  practically  every  instance  where  the  ceremonial 
is  employed  it  apparently  involves  this  removal  of 
taboo  as  well  as  the  positive  furtherance  of  the  life 

90 


CEREMONIALS  AND  MAGIC 

process.  In  these  marriage  ceremonies  the  purpose, 
according  to  Crawley,  is  to  overcome  negative  condi- 
tions. In  the  case  of  planting  crops  the  negative  and 
positive  forces  of  the  rite  seem  more  nearly  balanced. 
In  ceremonials  for  sickness  and  the  dead  the  opposi- 
tion to  negative  elements  seems  greater.  This  appears 
also  to  be  true  in  the  case  of  warriors  returning  from 
battle.  They  must  remain  a  certain  time  outside  the 
camp,  paint  themselves,  bathe,  be  fed  by  others  in 
order  not  to  touch  food,  until  finally  the  taboo  is 
removed  and  they  are  allowed  to  return  into  full 
relations  with  the  tribe. ^ 

In  all  these  ceremonials  the  tendency  of  habitual 
activities  to  become  elaborate  and  more  or  less  sym- 
bolic is  evident.  The  Arunta  Tribe  in  Australia,  for 
example,  spend  as  much  as  four  months  at  a  time  in 
this  seeming  mimicry  and  mummery.  In  more  ad- 
vanced peoples  the  symbolism  develops  into  genuine 
art.  Among  the  Greeks  music  and  plastic  art  can  be 
traced  back  to  the  dance  of  the  agricultural  festivals, 
where  the  rhythm  and  form  are  direct  reproductions 
of  the  rhythm  and  form  of  real  labor. 

Ceremonials  need  also  to  be  considered  with  refer- 
ence to  the  emotional  reactions  involved.  It  is  now 
well  established  that  the  emotions  arise  in  situations 
of  stress  and  tension,  where  the  regular,  habitual  activ- 
ity is  interrupted  and  is  inadequate  to  the  task  in 
hand.  Attention  flutters  between  conflicting  plans 
of  action,  accompanied  by  depressing,  painful  feeling 
when  the  cause  is  losing  or  by  expansive,  pleasurable 

*  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol,  i,  p.  331;  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion 
of  the  Semites,  p.  491. 

91 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

feeling  when  victory  and  safety  are  at  hand.    The 
despair  of  defeat  endures  so  long  as  the  consciousness 
of  what  is  lost  remains  keen,  and  the  joy  of  the  success 
waxes  great  while  there  is  a  sense  of  the  loss  and  pain 
which  have  been  avoided.    It  has  been  seen  that  the 
occasions  of   ceremonials  are   precisely   those   acute 
crises  which  set  the  most  vital  interests  of  the  tribe 
in  greatest  tension,  —hunger,  love,  war,  birth,  death, 
youth,  sickness.    The  rites  which  arise  in  these  crises 
share  in  these  tensions  and  at  the  same  time  resolve 
them.    They  are  not  make-believe  and  they  are  not 
remotely  symbolical.    They  actually  do  work.    Ac- 
cordingly the  participants  in  the  dance  or  corrob- 
boree  experience  the  w^hole  gamut  of  emotion.    So 
intense  does  this  become  in  certain  ceremonies  that 
special  performances  are  necessary  to  allay  it.    Thus 
Spencer  and  Gillen  relate  the  conclusion  of  a  certain 
dance:  "the  Nurtunja  (a  pole  used  in  sacred  cere- 
monies) was  laid  on  one  side,  and  the  performers,  tak- 
ing each  a  little  bit  of  down  from  it,  pressed  this  in 
turn  against  the  stomach  of  each  of  the  older  men  who 
were  present.    The  idea  of  placing  hands  upon  the 
performers    is    that    thereby    their    movements    are 
stopped,  whilst  the  meaning  of  the  down  being  placed 
against  the  stomachs  of  the  older  men  is  that  they 
become  so  agitated  with  emotion  by  witnessing  the 
sacred  ceremony  that  their  inward  parts,  that  is,  their 
bowels,  which  are  regarded  as  the  seat  of  the  emotions, 
get  tied  up  in  knots,  which  are  loosened  by  this  appli- 
cation of  a  part  of  the  sacred  Nurtunja.''  ^ 

'  Spencer   and    Gillen,   Native    Tribes    of   Central   Australia,   pp. 
285  f. 

92 


CEREMONIALS   AND  MAGIC 

It  is  probable  that  this  emotional  excitement,  in 
many  cases  amounting  to  frenzy,  is  of  importance  on 
its  own  account.  The  subjects  of  it  pass  out  of  their 
usual  state  and  become  for  the  time  strange  to  them- 
selves and  to  others.  They  lose  themselves  in  the 
totem  and  ancestor  characters  impersonated.  Just 
because  they  appear  other  than  normal  and  are  able 
to  do  extraordinary  things,  such  as  uttering  oracular 
wisdom,  perhaps  in  a  strange  tongue,  they  are  re- 
garded as  taboo  or  sacred.  Rivers  describes  a  case  in 
which  during  a  funeral  among  the  Todas  the  buffalo 
to  be  killed  became  refractory  and  finally  lay  down 
and  could  not  be  moved. ^  Then  a  diviner  was  called 
who  danced  to  and  fro,  from  and  towards  the  buffalo. 
As  his  dancing  became  wilder,  his  appearance  was 
strange.  "  His  hair  seemed  to  stand  out  from  his  head, 
although  it  shook  with  each  of  his  violent  movements ; 
his  eyes  were  abnormally  bright  and  his  face  gave 
every  appearance  of  great  mental  excitement."  While 
in  this  state  he  gave  directions  in  a  language  which 
at  other  times  he  claimed  to  be  ignorant  of.  These  are 
the  phenomena  of  temporary  possession  which  occur 
among  all  peoples  and  to  some  extent  in  all  stages  of 
development.  The  subjects  of  them  are  taboo  and  at 
the  same  time  are  able  to  exert  magical  power.  It  is 
when  the  initiation  rites  have  been  carried  through 
various  preliminaries  that  the  performers  attain  suf- 
ficient fervor  or  frenzy  to  accomplish  the  transfer  of 
the  ancestral  life  to  the  novice.  Likewise  all  the  cere- 
monies require  dances,  chants,  surprises,  explosions  of 

^  W.  H.  R.  Rivers,  The  Todas,  p.  253  ;  cf .  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough, 
vol.  i,  p.  131. 

93 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

energy,  before  they  become  effective.  The  efficacy  of 
the  group  is  greatest  in  this  climax  of  emotion,  and  it 
is  then  that  the  magic  is  wrought.  At  that  moment 
power  is  communicated,  the  processes  of  nature  are 
enhvened,  the  youth  is  transformed  into  manhood, 
sickness  is  expelled,  the  evil  doer  is  detected,  the  enemy 
is  smitten,  the  future  is  foreseen,  and  all  manner  of 
miracles  are  wrought. 

It  is  also  true  that  the  ceremonials  have  a  genuine 
educational  value.  They  inculcate  self-control,  en- 
durance, obedience  to  the  old  men,  and  acquaint  the 
novices  with  the  stories  of  heroes  of  the  past  and  their 
deeds  of  valor.  But  such  educational  effects  are  not 
independent  of  the  magical  character  of  the  rites. 
Indeed  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  that  the  more  magical 
they  are,  the  more  impressive  the  instruction  becomes. 


CHAPTER  VI 

to 

SPIRITS 

The  omission  of  the  term  "spirits"  in  the  discussion 
thus  far  has  been  deHberate,  but  a  full  consideration  of 
the  subject  is  important  at  this  point.  Two  state- 
ments from  Tylor's  great  work  may  be  taken  as  typical 
of  the  usual  doctrine.  "It  seems  as  though  the  con- 
ception of  a  human  soul,  when  once  attained  by  man, 
served  as  a  type  or  model  on  which  he  framed  not  only 
his  ideas  of  other  souls  of  lower  grade,  but  also  his 
idea  of  spiritual  beings  in  general,  from  the  tiniest  elf 
that  sports  in  the  long  grass  up  to  the  heavenly 
Creator  and  Ruler  of  the  world,  the  Great  Spirit." 
"The  general  principles  of  this  investigation  seem 
comparatively  easy  of  access  to  the  enquirer,  if  he  will 
use  the  two  keys  which  the  foregoing  studies  imply: 
first,  that  spiritual  beings  are  modeled  by  man  on 
his  primary  conception  of  his  own  human  soul,  and 
second,  that  their  purpose  is  to  explain  nature  on  the 
primitive  childlike  theory  that  it  is  truly  and  through- 
out 'animated  Nature.'"  ^ 

This  characteristic  expression  of  the  view  of  most 
writers  upon  the  subject  of  animism  or  spiritism  be- 
trays plainly  the  effect  of  the  old  rational  psychology. 
It  made  the  assumption  that  man  is  directly  conscious 
of  himself  as  a  spiritual  agent,  or  soul,  and  the  further 
assumption  that  this  "conception  of  the  human  soul 

1  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  ii,  pp.  110,  184;  cf.  pp.  109, 
209,  247. 

95 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

is  the  very  '  fons  et  origo '  of  the  conceptions  of  spirit 
and  deity  in  general."  Professor  James  and  many  psy- 
chologists after  him  have  shown  how  unsubstantial  a 
foundation  there  is  for  the  earlier  conception  of  the 
soul  as  a  metaphysical  unit.  In  his  actual  experience 
each  man  is,  as  it  were,  many  selves,  sometimes  organ- 
ized into  more  or  less  of  a  hierarchy,  but  often  dis- 
sociated, if  not  quite  at  war  with  one  another.  One 
never  feels  the  whole  of  himself,  so  to  speak,  but  is  in 
reality  conscious  of  this  or  that  activity;  reading, 
walking,  eating,  with  a  thread  of  "warmth  and  in- 
timacy" giving  a  fragile  continuity  to  the  complex 
series.  At  best  this  consciousness  of  self  w^axes  and 
wanes  in  vigor  and  fatigue,  in  youth  and  senility. 
Instead  of  having  a  kind  of  ready-made  knowledge 
of  self  which  he  can  employ  as  a  type  to  project  upon 
all  the  things  he  meets,  in  reality  he  only  gradually 
attains  a  dim,  partially  organized  sense  of  personality 
out  of  his  experiences  with  other  persons  and  things. 
The  notion  of  the  soul  does  not  precede  the  idea  of 
objects.  There  is  no  individuality  in  the  subject 
except  in  relation  to  individuality  in  objects.  The  dis- 
criminating and  synthesizing  processes  by  w^hich  dis- 
tinctions between  the  self  and  objects  proceed,  and  by 
which  unity  and  distinctness  arise  for  both,  do  not 
concern  one  more  than  the  other.  A  highly  organized 
personality  implies  an  equally  well-ordered  w^orld  of 
various  persons  constituting  a  social  order  and  a 
sphere  of  multitudinous  "things"  or  "objects"  gov- 
erned by  "laws  of  nature."  Subject  and  object  arise 
together  in  experience.  It  is  therefore  a  fundamental 
fallacy  to  assume  that  the  soul  of  primitive  man 

96 


SPIRITS 

became  aware  of  its  activity  and  spiritual  character 
in  any  prior  or  independent  way  which  would  justify 
the  statement  that  it  served  as  a  type  or  model  for 
framing  ideas  of  all  other  spirits. 

Primitive  man  is  more  like  the  child  than  he  is  like 
the  introspective,  anthropomorphizing  philosopher. 
If  the  latter  does  not  really  attain  the  closely  articu- 
lated and  unified  self  which  the  term  soul  formerly 
signified,  it  is  certainly  impossible  for  the  child  or  the 
savage.  Genetic  psychology  makes  it  clear  that  the 
infant  is  not  a  self,  a  personality.  He  is  only  a  kind 
of  candidate  for  personality.  If  he  attains  it  in  some 
measure,  he  does  so  gradually.  It  is  an  achievement, 
not  a  gift.  Neither  is  it  the  necessary  and  inevitable 
unfolding  of  powers  within  him.  It  is  actually  devel- 
oped through  concrete  and  vital  experiences,  or  if 
these  experiences  do  not  occur,  it  is  not  developed  at 
all.  It  is  just  as  true,  therefore,  to  say  that  one  gets 
the  idea  of  himself  from  the  objects  he  deals  with,  and 
that  he  makes  them  the  pattern  upon  which  he  con- 
structs the  self,  as  it  is  to  say  that  the  reverse  occurs. 

The  fact  seems  to  be  that  both  self  and  object  are 
fused  in  one  activity  and  are  not  contrasted  in  the 
actor's  mind.  It  is  not  so  much  a  projection  of  the 
self  to  other  things  as  it  is  the  participation  of  all  in 
one  total  undifferentiated  process,  warm  with  vital 
interest.  A  man  feels  himself  hurt  when  his  body  is 
injured  and  also  when  his  coat  is  torn  or  his  money 
lost.  This  is  in  fact  the  basis  of  that "  animation  "  which 
is  constantly  involved  in  all  immediate,  unreflective 
experience.  We  feel  to  the  end  of  our  walking-stick, 
and  we  only  set  ourselves  off  from  it  when  it  is  dropped, 

97 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

lost,  broken,  or  otherwise  "objectified."  So  long  as  we 
possess  it  and  employ  it  in  the  ordinary  way  it  is  part 
of  us  and  is  as  little  thought  of  as  is  a  finger  of  the 
hand  which  works  painlessly  and  harmoniously.  But 
when  the  stick  is  broken,  it  is  like  a  sore  finger  and  on 
that  account  stands  out  with  painful  clearness  in  con- 
sciousness. If,  again,  the  stick  becomes  useless  and 
the  finger  extremely  infected,  both  are  removed  and  in 
time  forgotten.  We  become  indifferent  to  them  and 
they  no  longer  exist  for  us.  A  description  of  this  pro- 
cess of  animation  and  its  decadence  is  graphically 
presented  in  the  following:  "If  a  boy  sets  about  mak- 
ing a  boat  and  has  any  success,  his  interest  in  the 
matter  waxes,  he  gloats  over  it,  the  keel  and  stern  are 
dear  to  his  heart,  and  its  ribs  are  more  to  him  than 
those  of  his  own  frame.  He  is  eager  to  call  in  his 
friends  and  acquaintances,  saying  to  them,  'See  what 
I  am  doing.  Is  it  not  remarkable  .^^ '  feeling  elated 
when  it  is  praised  or  humiliated  when  fault  is  found 
with  it.  But  as  soon  as  he  finishes  it  and  turns  to 
something  else,  his  self-feeling  begins  to  fade  away 
from  it,  and  in  a  few  weeks  at  most  he  will  have 
become  comparatively  indifferent."  ^ 

It  only  needs  to  be  added  for  the  present  argument, 
that  the  feeling  with  regard  to  the  self  changes  with 
the  changing  fortune  of  the  boat-making.  While  the 
activity  is  going  on,  both  the  self  and  the  boat  rise 
into  consciousness,  and  when  it  is  discontinued,  not 
only  the  boat  but  the  self  which  was  correlated  with 
it,  fades  away.  The  activity  developed  not  only  a 
boat-self  but  a  self-boat,  and,  when  one  died,  the 

^  C.  H.  Cooley,  Human  Nature  and  the  Social  Order,  p.  146. 

98 


SPIRITS 

other  perished  with  it.  Neither  could  live  alone.  This 
conception  of  the  relation  of  the  self  and  its  objects 
furnishes  quite  a  different  psychological  explanation 
of  animism  from  the  one  quoted  from  Tylor.  Instead 
of  primitive  man  discovering  his  own  soul  within  him 
and  then  attributing  such  a  soul  to  all  other  things,  he 
is  indolent  and  unattentive;  or  he  is  absorbed  in  an 
intense  activity,  all  parts  of  which  fuse  and  blend 
except  in  moments  of  unusual,  surprising  experiences 
when  a  conflict  springs  up  between  his  accustomed 
round  of  action  and  some  feature  of  his  environment. 
Then,  at  that  moment  of  conflict,  his  attention  is 
caught  by  the  escaping  animal,  by  a  knotted  tree,  or 
by  a  protruding  rock  which  has  shielded  the  game  or 
interrupted  the  chase.  Such  an  object  becomes  a 
determining  factor  in  the  urgent,  exciting  effort  and  is 
thrust  up  into  notice  in  such  a  way  as  to  become  a 
living  thing.  Something  like  this  seems  to  be  the 
meaning  of  an  extremely  suggestive  passage  by  Pro- 
fessor Dewey.  In  the  hunting  of  the  savage,  "tools, 
implements,  weapons  are  not  mechanical  and  objec- 
tive means,  but  are  part  of  the  present  activity, 
organic  parts  of  personal  skill  and  effort.  The  land 
is  not  a  means  to  a  result  but  an  intimate  and  fused 
portion  of  life,  —  a  matter  not  of  objective  inspection 
and  analysis,  but  of  affectionate  and  sympathetic 
regard.  The  making  of  weapons  is  felt  as  a  part  of  the 
exciting  use  of  them.  Plants  and  animals  are  not 
'things,'  but  are  factors  in  the  display  of  energj^  and 
form  the  contents  of  most  intense  satisfactions.  The 
*  animism '  of  the  primitive  mind  is  a  necessary  expres- 
sion of  the  immediacy  of  relation  existing  between 

99 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

want,  overt  activity,  that  which  affords  satisfaction  and 
the  attained  satisfaction  itself.  Only  when  things  are 
treated  simply  as  means,  do  they  become  objects."  ^ 

Two  important  facts  here  are  these.  First,  the 
object 'emerges  at  the  point  where  the  attention  is 
arrested.  Obviously  this  may  occur  anywhere  in  the 
process  and  in  the  course  of  various  activities  a  variety 
of  objects  are  discriminated.  Some  of  these  objects 
recur  in  successive  experiences  and  attain  greater 
definiteness  and  individuality.  That  is,  in  hunting, 
the  animal,  the  stream,  the  tree  play  their  part  with 
sufficient  frequency,  and  at  the  same  time  with 
enough  variability  to  bring  them  repeatedly  above  the 
threshold  of  attention.  Secondly,  the  objects  thus 
attended  to  are  not  abstracted  beyond  the  active 
process  in  which  they  appear.  They  are  warm  with 
the  life  and  movement  pervading  all  the  operations  of 
the  chase.  They  are  therefore  not  inanimate.  They 
possess  energy  and  influence  which,  to  the  undisci- 
plined mind  of  the  savage,  is  magnified  rather  than 
minimized.  In  other  words,  these  objects  are  living 
agents  or  spirits  to  the  savage. 

These  principles  simplify  many  of  the  problems 
which  have  arisen  in  the  interpretation  of  primitive 
religion.  They  account  for  the  great  multiplicity  of 
spirits  and  for  their  transient,  shifting  character.  They 
explain  why  different  peoples  have  different  kinds  of 
spirits  and  also  why  the  spirits  of  a  given  tribe  are 
determined  so  characteristically  by  their  environment 
and   occupations.    These   and   other  phases   of  the 

*  John  Dewey,  "Interpretation  of  Savage  Mind,"  Psychological  Re- 
view, 1902,  p.  221. 

100 


SPIRITS 

problem  will  be  emphasized  later  in  the  discussion. 
At  this  point  it  is  important  to  indicate  some  of  the 
anthropological  data  which  have  been  used  induc- 
tively in  attaining  these  broad  generalizations. 

The  meaning  of  the  term  spirit  among  savages  is 
extremely  vague  and  uncertain,  even  if  it  is  conceded 
that  they  really  possess  such  a  word  at  all.  "How 
does  a  Kafir  conceive  of  a  spirit  (of  an  ancestor)? 
They  have  many  ways  of  viewing  the  subject;  but  all 
are  delightfully  vague  and  ill-defined.  The  nearest 
English  word  would  possibly  be  personality,  though 
that  would  be  but  an  approximation.  This  word  has  a 
very  vague  connotation  to  those  who  have  not  studied 
psychology,  and  its  vagueness  makes  it  suitable  in 
this  connection.  The  Kafir  idea  of  spirit  is  not  at  all 
the  same  as  our  religious  conception  of  a  soul  or  spirit. 
Some  natives  say  a  man's  soul  lives  in  the  roof  of  his 
hut;  you  can  hardly  keep  a  'theological  soul'  there. 
It  would  be  nearer  the  mark  to  connect  it  with  the 
body,  though  it  is  confused  with  a  man's  shadow, 
which  is  supposed  to  dwindle  as  he  grows  old.  A 
man's  shadow  is  supposed  to  vanish  or  grow  very 
slight  at  death;  most  naturally  so,  for  the  dead  body 
lies  prone.  This  shadow,  then,  is  connected  with  the 
man's  personality  and  forms  a  basis  for  the  ancestral 
spirit.  You  may  call  it  a  ghost,  if  you  like,  but  must 
be  careful  to  strain  off  most  of  our  European  ideas 
connected  with  this  word."  ^ 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  Kafir  does  not 
belong  to  the  lowest  known  races  and  that  therefore 
the  vagueness  in  his  conception  of  spirits  is  only  a 

^  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  pp.  82  f. 

101 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

suggestion  of  the  fruitlessness  of  any  search  for  defi- 
nite terms  or  conceptions  with  reference  to  the  subject 
among  savages.  The  vagueness  of  the  notion  appears 
also  in  the  wide  range  of  objects  to  which  it  is  appHed. 
Herbert  Spencer  has  shown  that  primitive  peoples 
attribute  spirits  not  only  to  men,  but  to  animals, 
plants,  and  inorganic  objects.^  His  use  of  the  facts  in 
the  interest  of  the  narrow  doctrine  of  primitive  re- 
ligion as  ancestor-worship  is  confusing,  but  the  data 
he  collated  show  that  the  term  spirit  is  applied  to 
f^"'  every  kind  of  object.    R.  R.  Marett  finds  that  the 

savage  believed  in  an  "infinitely  miscellaneous  col- 
lection of  spiritual  entities."  ^  He  quotes  the  follow- 
ing conversation  in  illustration:  "  'To  whom  are  you 
praying.^ '  asked  Hale  of  a  Sakai  chief  at  one  of  those 
fruit  festivals  so  characteristic  of  the  Malay  penin- 
sula. 'To  the  Hantus  (spirits),'  he  replied,  —  'the 
Hantus  of  the  forest,  of  the  mountains,  of  the  rivers, 
the  Hantus  of  the  Sakai  chiefs  who  are  dead,  the 
Hantus  of  the  headache  and  stomachache,  the  Hantus 
that  make  people  gamble  and  smoke  opium,  the 
Hantus  that  send  disputes,  and  the  Hantus  that  send 
mosquitoes.'"  One  other  quotation  confirms  the 
claim  that  there  are  no  limits  to  the  use  of  the  term 
spirits.  Speaking  of  the  Polynesians  and  Melane- 
sians,  Ratzel  says:  "The  words  spirit  and  soul  indi- 
cate generally  any  expression  of  life.  The  squeaking 
of  rats,  the  talk  of  children  in  their  sleep,  is  called 
*  spirit'  in  Tahiti."  ^ 

*  Herbert  Spencer,  Sociology,  vol.  i,  chapters  20-24. 
2  R.  R.  Marett,  "Pre-animistic  Religion,"  Folk-Lore,  1900,  p.  167. 
.   «  F.  Ratzel,  The  History  of  Mankind,  vol.  i,  p.  300. 

102 


SPIRITS 

This  last  statement  should  prepare  the  way  for  the 
observation  that  the  term  spirit  does  not  mark  any 
such  differentiation  between  material  and  immaterial 
things,  or  between  real  and  ideal  existences,  as  is  gen- 
erally ascribed  to  it.  Crawley  has  insisted  upon  this 
indeterminate  character  of  primitive  thinking.  "  Prim- 
itive man,"  he  asserts,  "regards  the  creatures  of  his 
own  imagination  as  being  no  less  real  than  the  exis- 
tences for  which  he  has  the  evidence  of  sense-percep- 
tion, in  a  sense  more  real,  precisely  because  they  elude 
sense-perception,  though  dealt  with  in  the  same  way 
as  objective  reality."  ^  He  is  probably  right  also  in 
maintaining  that  the  supernatural  and  the  natural 
are  not  distinguished;  that  matter  and  spirit  are 
undifferentiated. 

This  blurred  and  inarticulate  character  of  early 
man's  thought  is  not  likely  to  be  over-emphasized. 
Souls  or  spirits  are  obtrusively  corporeal,  while  the 
physical  body  is  capable  of  transformations  worthy  of 
the  veriest  sprite.  Tylor  observes  :  "Among  lower 
races,  the  soul  or  spirit  is  a  thin,  unsubstantial  human 
image,  in  its  nature  a  sort  of  vapor,  film  or  shadow." 
Skeat  reports  it  among  the  Malays  as  a  manikin 
about  as  big  as  the  thumb,  corresponding  exactly  in 
shape,  proportion,  and  even  in  complexion,  to  the 
body.  This  realistic  nature  of  the  soul  appears  in  the 
way  of  thinking  of  deceased  ancestors.  The  Kafirs 
associate  their  ancestors  with  snakes,  perhaps,  as 
Dudley  Kidd  remarks,^  because  snakes  crawl  out  of 
the  wattles  of  the  kraal  where  the  grave  is.  The  reptile 

1  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose,  p.  3. 
»  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  pp.  83,  84. 

103 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

is  even  regarded  as  an  actual  part  of  the  ancestor,  for 
example,  it  is  the  backbone  or  the  entrails.  Or  they 
identify  a  man  and  his  shadow,  but  the  latter  is  not 
unreal  in  any  sense.  To  stand  on  their  shadow  is  to 
injure  them.  Again  a  man  and  his  possessions  are  con- 
sidered so  much  the  same  that  if  the  shadow  of  his 
sleeping-mat  grows  less  it  is  because  the  absent  war- 
rior himself  has  been  killed  in  battle.  The  dead  are 
not  regarded  as  essentially  different  from  the  living. 
They  are  given  food,  which  is  sometimes  literally 
poured  down  a  tube  to  the  mouth  of  the  corpse  as  it 
lies  in  the  grave;  they  are  spoken  to,  supplied  wuth 
w^eapons,  clothes,  jewels,  and  many  other  things. 
They  continue  to  belong  to  the  tribe  and  are  just  as 
much  counted  on  as  are  the  visible  members.  We 
have  seen  how  they  participate  in  ceremonials  and 
continue  to  direct  and  control  the  affairs  of  the  tribe.-' 
There  is,  then,  no  sufficient  ground  for  believing 
that  primitive  people  make  any  consistent  distinction 
between  man  and  his  spirit  or  between  any  other 
object  and  its  spirit.  Dreams  and  trances  may  indeed 
give  rise  to  the  idea  of  a  double,  but  this  double  is  not 
essentially  different  from  the  original.  The  limits  and 
possibilities  of  changes  in  personality  are  not  known 
to  the  savage,  and  the  stories  of  the  transformation  of 
human  beings  into  animals  and  other  forms  are  not 
difficult  for  him.^  There  is  no  convincing  evidence 
that  he  has  any  such  conception  of  spiritual  beings  or 

1  Supra,  pp.  67,  75;  cf.  A.  C.  Haddon,  "  The  Religion  of  the  Torres 
Straits  Indians,"  Anthropological  Essays,  p.  181. 

»  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  ii,  p.  467;  W.  R.  Smith,  Re- 
ligion of  the  Semites,  p.  87. 

104 


SPIRITS 

supernatural  agents  as  has  generally  been  inferred. 
The  tendency  has  been  to  attribute  over-nice  distinc- 
tions to  minds  unable  to  make  them.  The  interpre- 
tations of  the  ideas  of  lower  races  have  been  made 
from  the  standpoint  and  with  the  preconceptions  of 
races  in  which  the  power  of  abstraction  is  much 
greater.  What  Robertson  Smith  says  with  reference 
to  the  jinn  or  demons  of  the  heathen  Arabs  is  doubt- 
less still  truer  of  lower  types.  "These  jinn  are  not 
pure  spirits,  but  corporeal  beings,  more  like  beasts 
than  men,  for  they  are  ordinarily  represented  as  hairy, 
or  have  some  other  animal  shape,  as  that  of  an  ostrich 
or  a  snake.  Their  bodies  are  not  phantasms,  for  if  a 
jinni  is  killed  a  solid  carcass  remains;  but  they  have 
mysterious  powers  of  appearing  and  disappearing,  or 
even  of  changing  their  aspect  and  temporarily  assum- 
ing a  human  form."^ 

It  is  not  necessary,  therefore,  to  suppose  that  in  the 
more  primitive  stages  any  distinction  is  made  between 
an  object  and  its  spirit.  The  object  is  itself  the  spirit. 
Specific  evidence  is  not  wanting  for  this  view.  The 
Malay  miner  considers  "that  the  tin  itself  is  alive  and 
has  many  of  the  properties  of  living  matter,  that  of 
itself  it  can  move  from  place  to  place,  that  it  can  re- 
produce itself,  and  that  it  has  special  likes  —  or 
perhaps  affinities  —  for  certain  people  and  things,  and 
vice  versa."  ^  "The  rice  itself  is  addressed  as  though 
it  were  an  animated  being."  ^ 

Upon  the  basis   of   these  facts,  —  the  variety  of 

^  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  pp.  119  f. 
2  W.  W.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  p.  259. 
'  F.  Ratzel,  History  of  Mankind,  vol.  i,  p.  471. 

105 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

objects  considered  as  spirits,  the  failure  to  differen- 
tiate things  as  material  and  immaterial,  the  trans- 
formations which  are  believed  possible  between  men, 
animals,  plants,  and  stones,  the  slight  difference  be- 
tween living  men  and  dead  men,  —  the  suggestion  is 
here  made  of  a  psychological  interpretation  of  the 
whole  subject  of  spirits,  in  terms  of  attention,  con- 
ception, and  habit.  If  what  has  been  said  about  the 
identity  of  object  and  spirit  be  kept  in  mind,  then  it 
becomes  clear  that  a  spirit  is  an  object,  sensation,  or 
image  which  strikes  the  attention  forcibly.  Among 
the  Malays  there  is  "veneration  and  awe  of  any  tree 
that  is  in  any  way  out  of  the  common.  On  giant 
trees  or  such  as  have  got  twined  together  or  shelter 
white  ants'  nests,  one  is  sure  to  find  a  little  shrine  in 
which  offerings  are  brought  to  the  spirit."  ^  A  passage 
from  Marett  is  particularly  pertinent.  "Stones  that 
are  at  all  curious  in  shape,  position,  size,  or  color,  — 
not  to  speak  of  properties  derived  from  remarkable 
coincidences  of  all  sorts,  —  would  seem  especially 
designed  by  nature  to  appeal  to  primitive  man's 
*  supernaturalistic  tendency.'  A  solitary  pillar  of  rock, 
a  crumbled  volcanic  boulder,  a  meteorite,  a  pebble  re- 
sembling a  pig,  a  yam,  or  an  arrowhead,  a  piece  of 
shining  quartz,  these  and  such  as  these  are  almost  cer- 
tain to  be  invested  by  his  imagination  with  the  vague 
but  dreadful  attribute  of  Powers.  Nor,  although  to  us 
nothing  appears  so  utterly  inanimate  as  a  stone,  is 
savage  animism  in  the  least  afraid  to  regard  it  as  alive. 
Thus  the  Kanakas  differentiate  their  sacred  stones  into 
males  and  females  and  firmly  believe  that  from  time 
^  F.  Ratzel,  History  of  Mankind,  vol.  i,  p.  471 ;  cf.  p.  468. 

106 


SPIRITS 

to  time  little  stones  appear  at  the  side  of  the  parent 
blocks."  ^ 

Marett  cites  in  this  connection  the  place  of  impor- 
tance held  by  animals  which  are  strange,  gruesome, 
and  uncanny.  Such  are  white  elephants,  white  buffa- 
loes, night  birds,  monkeys,  mice,  frogs,  crabs,  and 
lizards.  It  is  needless  to  multiply  specific  instances. 
All  writers  agree  that  those  things  are  regarded  as  pos- 
sessing spirits,  or  as  being  spirits  which  are  unusual 
and  astonishing.  The  impression  made  by  delirium, 
epilepsy,  sneezing,  yawning,  twitching  of  the  eyelids, 
and  other  seizures  or  convulsive  movements,  are  of 
this  kind.  So  much  is  this  the  case  that  the  word  spirit 
might  be  taken  to  mean  any  strange  thing,  any  un- 
wonted, exaggerated  or  surprising  thing.  Psychologi- 
cally there  seems  good  ground  for  this  hypothesis:  a 
spirit  is  something  which  strikes  the  attention  forcibly, 
interrupting  an  established  habit,  and  demanding  the 
creation  of  a  new  conception.  A  sentence  from  Pro- 
fessor James  emphasizes  this  operation  of  attention 
as  fundamental  in  conception.  "Each  act  of  concep- 
tion results  from  our  attention  singling  out  some  one 
part  of  the  mass  of  matter  for  thought  which  the 
world  presents  and  holding  fast  to  it  without  confu- 
sion." ^  This  holding  fast  to  the  object  or  quality 
does  not,  however,  according  to  James,  require  any 
great  intellectual  clearness  or  tenacity.  It  is  sufficient 
just  to  have  the  vague  feeling  of  identity.  "A  polyp 
would  be  a  conceptual  thinker  if  a  feeling  of  'Hollo, 

^  R.  R.  Marett,  "  Pre-animistic  Religion,"  Folk-Lore,  1900,  p.  174; 
cf.  169. 

*  William  James,  Psychology,  vol.  i,  p.  461. 

107 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

thingumbob  again/  ever  flitted  through  its  mind."  We 
have  here,  it  may  be,  a  psychological  account  of 
spirits,  an  explanation  of  the  fact  that  anything,  the 
squeaking  of  a  rat,  tin-ore,  or  a  deceased  ancestor, 
may  be  found  in  this  category. 

There  is  thus  discovered  also  an  interesting  connec- 
tion between  spirits  and  taboo.  It  was  shown  above 
that  taboo  expresses  just  this  sense  of  uncertainty,  of 
fear  or  inhibition  in  the  presence  of  a  strange  object  or 
an  unfamiliar  situation.  The  things  tabooed  are  queer, 
novel,  wonderful.  That  is,  that  which  catches  the 
attention  in  the  moment  of  surprise  is  spirit,  and  the 
caution  which  is  the  natural  result  is  the  essence  of 
taboo  or  sacredness.  Both  of  these  phases,  showing 
what  constitutes  the  essence  of  spirit  and  that  this  is 
the  essence  of  taboo,  came  out  in  the  conversation  of 
Marett  with  the  Pigmy  chief.  "His  knife  acts  nor- 
mally as  long  as  it  serves  him  to  trim  his  own  arrow- 
shaft.  As  soon,  however,  as  it  slips  and  cuts  his  hand, 
there  is  ^oudah'  in,  or  at  the  back  of,  the  'cussed' 
tVing.  Given,  then,  anything  that  behaves  'cussedly' 
5vith  regularity,  that  is  normally  abnormal  in  its 
effects,  so  to  speak,  and  a  taboo  or  customary  avoid- 
ance will  be  instituted."  ^ 

This  identification  of  a  thing  as  surprising,  some- 
thing to  be  attended  to,  is  indicated  among  the  differ- 
ent races  by  terms  of  practically  the  same  meaning. 
With  the  Fijians  it  is  Kalou,  with  other  Melanesians  it 
is  Mana,  with  the  Malagasy  it  is  Andria-mamtra, 
with  the  Masai  it  is  Ngai,  with  the  Zulus  it  is  Inkosi, 

1  R.R.  Marett,  "Is  Taboo  a  Negative  Magic?"  Anthropological  Es- 
says, p.  230. 

108 


SPIRITS 

with  the  Baronga  it  is  Tilo,  with  the  Omaha  it  is 
Wakanda,  with  the  Iroquois  it  is  Orenda,  with  the 
Algonquins  it  is  Manitou.^  Others  say  the  object  is 
possessed,  bewitched,  inspired,  sanctified.  Whatever  it 
is  called,  it  is  everywhere  the  same,  and  the  essence  of 
it  is,  as  Marett  holds,  its  power  to  inspire  awe.  "This 
is  the  common  element  in  ghosts  and  gods,  in  the 
magical  and  the  mystical,  the  supernal  and  the  infer- 
nal, the  unknown  within  and  the  unknown  without."  ^ 
But  Marett  is  not  so  convincing  when  he  argues 
that  this  awe  is  the  distinguishing  mark  of  religion. 
It  would  be  just  as  great  a  mistake  to  claim  that  the 
notion  of  spirits  or  of  taboo  is  the  thing  which  differ- 
entiates religion  on  the  intellectual  side.  The  fact  is 
that  all  of  these  terms  are  too  large,  too  comprehen- 
sive, when  taken  without  qualification,  to  designate 
religion.  They  apply  just  as  well  to  individual  magic. 
Religion  involves  certain  spirits,  namely,  those  which  \ 
signify  the  most  important  functions  and  interests  of 
the  group,  those  in  which  the  group  reacts  with  the  / 
greatest  solidarity  and  intensity.  These,  as  we  have 
seen,  are  the  occasions  of  crisis,  when  in  the  most  acute 
way,  "the  tribal  nerves  are  on  the  stretch."  It  is  these 
situations  which  give  rise  to  the  ceremonials.  Not  all 
surprising,  startling  experiences  become  the  occasions 
of  ceremonials,  that  is,  elicit  social  responses,  but 
those  which  do  are  of  the  greatest  importance  in 
primitive  religion.  Likewise  not  all  spirits,  but  only  \ 
those  which  belong  to  group   activities,  enter  into  ) 

^  A.  C.  Haddon,  Syllabus  of  Lectures  on  Magic  and  Primitive  Re- 
ligion,  p.  6. 

*  R.  R.  Marett,  Folk-Lore,  1900,  p.  169. 

109 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

religion.  In  the  same  way,  not  all  magic,  but  only 
such  as  belongs  to  group  activities,  enters  into  religion. 
By  taking  the  social  consciousness,  then,  in  its  pro- 
foundest  and  best  organized  features,  as  the  very 
essence  of  religion,  a  principle  is  gained  which  shows 
what  spirits  are  important  for  religion,  and  also  what 
particular  expressions  of  awe  are  genuinely  religious. 
It  is  of  course  admitted  that  the  social  consciousness 
and  its  adequate  expression  in  ceremonials  and  in 
codes  of  conduct  are  matters  of  degree,  but  this  only 
aids  in  showing  the  advantage  of  identifying  religion 
with  these  social  phenomena.  A  conception  of  religion 
is  thus  gained  which  is  free  enough  to  include  the 
lower  forms  and  also  the  various  stages  of  its  devel- 
opment, without  the  confusion  and  vagueness  which 
have  heretofore  arisen  from  attempting  to  identify  it 
with  such  an  intellectual  element  as  belief  in  spirits, 
or  with  an  emotional  factor  like  the  feeling  of  awe. 
Irving  King  has  given  a  good  psychological  statement 
of  the  matter.  "It  will  be  noted  that  we  have  not 
referred  to  the  common  notion  that  religion  develops 
primarily  from  the  awe  inspired  by  the  unusual,  from 
which  the  idea  of  the  supernatural  is  first  formed.  We 
have  held  that  a  religious  act  of  any  kind  is  primarily 
a  practical  act  designed  for  the  mediation  of  an  end 
that  has  become  remote  or  difficult,  and  that  the 
genuine  religious  character  develops  most  fully  as  the 
act  is  fixed  in  the  customs  of  a  social  group  and  be- 
comes an  important  avenue  for  the  expression  of  the 
corporate  life  of  the  group.  In  such  a  way,  it  seems  to 
me,  the  notion  of  sacredness  arose,  and  with  it  respect, 
awe,  and  reverence  in  the  religious  sense.  The  notion 

110 


SPIRITS 

of  the  supernatural  may  well  have  originated  in  the 
way  suggested  at  the  head  of  this  paragraph,  but  it  is 
not  a  fundamental  concept  in  the  development  of 
religion."  ^ 

It  is  the  central  life  interests  of  a  group  that  deter- 
mine the  run  of  attention  and  thereby  the  objects  or 
spirits  which  chiefly  concern  the  group.  The  explana- 
tion of  the  diversity  and  the  similarity  of  these  spirits 
among  different  races  lies  here.  The  question  of  the 
origin  of  religion,  when  taken  in  this  psychological 
way,  is  not  whether  animism,  totemism,  shamanism, 
or  any  particular  form  is  the  original.  The  question 
of  origins  concerns  rather  the  process  by  which  social 
activities  give  rise  to  the  group  consciousness  and 
group  ceremonials.  The  particular  type  and  character 
of  the  spirits  which  emerge  within  and  symbolize  the 
great  interests  of  the  group  are  determined  by  the  en- 
vironment and  by  the  trend  of  the  resulting  customs 
and  the  attendant  crises. 

Does  the  savage  make  a  distinction  between  an 
object  and  its  spirit;  for  example,  between  a  tree  and 
the  spirit  of  the  tree  ?  In  the  simplest  and  most  imme- 
diate experience  he  probably  makes  no  such  distinc- 
tion. At  this  level  nothing  is  carefully  analyzed  or 
abstracted  from  the  living  stream  of  interest  and  ac- 
tion. Everything  which  catches  the  attention  at  all 
shares  in  the  movement  toward  some  end  and  is  suf- 
fused with  vitality  and  power.  There  is  little  media- 
tion of  remote  ends,  little  regard  for  things  as  means. 
Means  and  ends  are  so  closely  identified  that  the 

1  Irving  King,  The  Differentiation  of  the  Religious  Consciousness,  p. 
28. 

Ill 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

securing  of  a  weapon,  such  as  a  stone,  is  part  of  the 
activity  of  capturing  the  game;  and  capturing  the 
animal  becomes  an  incident  in  using  it  for  food  or 
other  purposes.    At  this  stage  all  objects  are  spirits 
and  all  spirits  are  objects.   This  is  the  pre-animism  of 
Marett  and  the  animism  of  Tylor.    In  the  next  stage 
the  spirit  is  regarded  as  separable  from  the  object. 
The  basis  of  this  dualism  seems  to  be  the  usual  and 
therefore  less  noticeable  character  of  the  object  as 
contrasted  with  its  exceptional  phenomena.  Thus  the 
pigmy  chief's  knife  had  a  spirit  in  it  when  it  slipped 
and  cut  him,  but  not  when  it  worked  properly.   The 
term  Fetishism  has  been  used  by  some  writers  to 
designate  this  way  of  regarding  certain  objects  as 
temporary  or  permanent  dwelling-places  of  spirits. 
There  is,  however,  scarcely  any  uniformity  or  preci- 
sion in  the  use  of  the  term  and  it  does  not  aid  greatly 
in  gaining  clear  conceptions.  Attempts  also  have  been 
made  to  distinguish  stages  in  the  further  development 
of  spiritism  into  idols  and  gods,  but  such  terms  have  a 
vague  and  shifting  content.   The  development  of  the 
dualism  of  the  thing  and  spirit,  of  body  and  soul,  of 
natural  and  supernatural,  is  gradual  and  uneven.    It 
is  impossible  to  mark  off  definite  periods  of  human 
experience  and  assign  specific  notions  of  spirits  to 
them.    As  Haddon  says,  "It  is  these  imperceptible 
gradations  which  blur  all  the  outlines  of  the  rigid  sys- 
tematist  and  make  an  exclusive  classification  impos- 
sible."  It  is  not,  however,  impossible  to  indicate  with 
some  certainty  the  general  dialectic  of  the  process. 
The  dualism  between  object  and  spirit,  as  in  the  pigmy 
chief's  knife,  arises  with  a  partial  organization  of  ex- 

112 


SPIRITS 

perience  in  the  use  of  the  knife.  This  organized,  hab- 
itual activity  constitutes  the  known,  famihar  thing, 
but  there  play  around  and  through  this  core  of  the 
knife's  reality  many  occasional,  unorganized  experi- 
ences. As  this  differentiation  is  more  clearly  marked, 
the  distance  widens  between  the  material  object  and 
the  spirit.  But  this  separation  never  becomes  com- 
plete, the  object  remains  more  or  less  animated  and 
the  spirit  continues  to  be  to  some  extent  corporeal  and 
spatial.  In  the  case  of  the  most  important  spirits  of 
a  people,  such  as  the  maize-spirit  of  the  American 
Indians  and  the  animal-spirits  of  the  Hebrews,  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  material  substance  and  the  spirit 
which  it  contains  or  symbolizes  rests  upon  a  long  and 
complex  social  history.  The  growth  and  objectifica- 
tion  of  the  god  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  social  ex- 
periences and  achievements  of  the  nation.  The  life  of 
the  tribe  is  registered  in  its  sacred  object.  When  the 
tribe  attains  some  social  history,  preserved  in  oral 
traditions  and  various  monuments,  then  the  god  is 
credited  with  long  life  in  the  past.  The  sense  of  the 
future  and  of  power  to  plan  for  it  is  expressed  in  the 
god's  knowledge  and  control  of  the  future.  The  con- 
quests of  other  tribes  are  the  conquests  of  the  god, 
and  the  unification  of  the  tribes  makes  the  god  of  the 
dominant  tribe  the  aspirant  to  exclusive  recognition. 
All  the  other  gods  have  been  defeated;  there  is  but  one 
god.  As  the  moral  experiences  of  the  people  grow,  the 
moral  character  of  the  tribal  spirit  improves ;  or,  more 
accurately,  as  the  moral  sense  of  the  controlling, 
dominant  social  forces  improves,  the  spirit  or  god  grad- 
ually takes  on  an  exalted  character.    But  even  at  a 

113 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

relatively  late  stage  the  presence  of  the  god  in  his 
people  or  in  his  habitats  is  most  in  evidence  at  times 
of  crises.  In  general  it  may  be  said  that  the  ideality 
and  the  differentiation  of  the  spirit  or  god  reflects  the 
degree  of  social  development  attained.  In  psychologi- 
cal terms,  it  represents  the  result  of  generalization  and 
abstraction. 

The  expression  of  the  social  consciousness  in  the 
spirits  of  the  group  is  due  to  the  feeling  of  society  for 
its  tasks  and  ideals.  When  several  persons  work  at  a 
common  task,  they  develop  more  or  less  rhythm  and 
harmonious  adjustment  to  each  other.  The  rhythmi- 
cal labor  songs  of  harvesters  from  antiquity  to  the 
present  time  are  expressions  of  this  spirit  of  the  group 
and  are  of  the  nature  of  genuine  ceremonials.  But 
this  spirit  of  the  company,  —  we  call  it  the  spirit  of 
the  army,  the  spirit  of  the  party,  college  spirit,  class 
spirit,  —  this  is  usually  objectified  in  some  emblem, 
flag,  crest,  or  hero.  Every  one  knows  how  much 
greater  is  the  sense  of  fellowship  and  reality,  when  the 
symbol  is  set  up  or  carried  in  procession.  Psychologi- 
cally, this  is  the  same  experience  which  in  an  uncon- 
scious and  literal  way  registered  the  clan  feeling  in  the 
totem,  the  ancestral  hero,  or  other  chosen  divinity. 
The  spirit  of  comradeship,  of  communal  endeavor, 
fear,  hope,  reverence,  and  trust  expresses  itself  through 
many  forms  and  many  degrees  of  objectification. 

It  is  obvious  that  when  religion  is  conceived  in 
terms  of  social  activities  and  the  attendant  mental 
reactions,  it  must  directly  affect  the  notion  of  worship. 
The  fallacy  of  the  intellectualistic  view  of  religion  is 
manifest  in  the  ascription  of  highly  personified  and 

114 


SPIRITS 

idealized  deities  to  minds  which  are  exceedingly  lim- 
ited in  their  generalizations  and  intensely  concrete 
and  immediate  in  their  interests.  The  contrast  is 
forcible  and  even  humorous  in  the  interpretations  of 
Lang  and  Marett  with  reference  to  Daramulun,  one 
of  the  deities  of  the  Australians.  Lang  holds  it  to  be  a 
"high  god"  whose  worship  is  pure,  ethical  religion,  at 
a  later  stage  corrupted  into  magic.  Marett,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  sure  that  the  prototype  of  this  divinity 
is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  well-known  material 
and  inanimate  object,  the  bull-roarer.  "Its  thunder- 
ous booming  must  have  been  eminently  awe-inspiring 
to  the  first  inventors,  or  rather  discoverers,  of  the 
instrument,  and  would  not  unnaturally  provoke  the 
'animistic'  attribution  of  life  and  power  to  aid."  ^ 

The  practices  connected  with  Daramulun  appear 
very  different  to  one  who  regards  that  being  as  an 
ethical,  spiritual  deity,  and  to  one  who  finds  him  to  be 
the  material,  noise-making  bull-roarer.  It  is  almost  as 
though  the  Firecracker  of  the  American  Fourth  of 
July  were  regarded  in  such  different  waj^s. 

The  general  conception  of  worship  in  primitive 
religion  is  to  be  derived  from  the  nature  of  the  cere- 
monial or  cultus.  Taken  thus,  worship  may  be  further 
understood  when  considered  in  terms  of  two  factors 
of  especial  importance  in  the  later  development  of 
religion,  —  sacrifice  and  prayer.  What,  then,  is  their 
meaning  and  function? 

1  R.  R.  Marett,  "  Pre-animistic  Religion,"  Folk-Lore,  1900,  p.  173. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SACRIFICE 

Those  writers,  like  Jevons,  v/ho  deal  with  the 
earliest  forms  of  sacrifice  in  terms  of  "worship" 
attribute  too  ideal  a  character  to  the  act.  Worship 
suggests  an  attitude  of  reverence  and  trust  toward  a 

^-^'  "high  God,"  which  is  quite  impossible  in  the  primitive 

stages  of  human  experience.  In  fact,  a  closer  acquaint- 
ance with  the  worship  of  very  civilized,  modern  peo- 
ples startles  one  with  the  impression  of  materialistic 
and  utilitarian  factors  only  slightly  disguised  and 
softened  here  and  there  by  a  refinement  of  indirection. 
It  is,  of  course,  possible  to  misinterpret  later  forms 
by  approaching  them  from  simpler  and  cruder  types, 
but  doubtless  the  more  common  error  has  been  to 
misjudge  the  rudimentary  stages  by  viewing  them 
through  the  presuppositions  of  more  complex  and  in- 
tellectualistic  developments.  A  safeguard  against  both 
extremes  is  to  take  the  subject  of  sacrifice  in  terms 
of  the  acts  involved,  recognizing  that  the  meaning 
attached  to  these  acts  is  not  to  be  found,  for  the  great 
masses  of  mankind,  so  much  in  any  doctrines  ex- 
pressed as  in  the  results  effected. 

This  undertaking  is  greatly  simplified  when  it  is 
recognized  that  the  most  basic  and  characteristic  act 

^  in  the  ritual  of  sacrifice  is  that  of  eating  food.    This 

ritual  in  its  main  structure  is  just  the  customary 
manner  in  which  the  group  partakes  of  certain  kinds 

116 


SACRIFICE 

of  food.  Robertson  Smith  shows  that  among  the 
Semites  the  materials  of  sacrifice  are  the  substances 
which  form  the  ordinary  staple  of  human  food.^  In 
the  ceremonial  of  sacrifice  the  eating  is  done  by  Hving 
men  and  by  all  the  members  of  the  group,  and  the 
pangs  of  real  hunger  are  thereby  assuaged.  To  a 
far  later  day  than  is  usually  recognized  the  governing 
impulse  in  these  rites  is  the  desire  for  food,  though 
this  may  become  refined  into  the  desire  for  a  particu- 
lar kind  of  food  more  potent  or  spiritual  than  others. 
Among  the  Hebrews  every  slaughter  of  animals  for 
food  was  sacrifice  and  every  meal  at  which  meat  was 
eaten  was  a  sacrificial  feast.  The  food  process,  as  the 
central  feature  of  sacrifice,  is  obscured  by  the  elabora- 
tion of  preparatory  rites,  by  emphasis  upon  magical 
and  incidental  elements,  and  by  strange  substitutes 
for  the  act  of  eating  which  are  of  the  general  nature  of 
sympathetic  magic.  x\s  will  be  shown,  the  eating  of 
the  sacred  object  is  important  because  it  identifies  the 
eater  and  the  thing  eaten.  But  this  identification  is 
effected  also  by  various  other  forms  of  contact,  such  as 
rubbing  the  sacred  substance  into  wounds  or  anoint- 
ing the  body  with  it.  To  the  end,  however,  sacrifice 
retains  the  character  of  an  act  which  seems  to  benefit 
men  in  substantial  ways.  It  is  a  means  of  relieving 
hunger  and  of  gaining  power;  it  averts  danger  from 
mysterious  forces,  by  removing  taboos,  or  by  estab- 
lishing counter  taboos;  it  is  the  means  of  safe  inter- 
course with  strangers,  with  the  dead,  with  the  oppo- 
site sex;  it  is  the  means  of  returning  safely  to  one's 
people  and  to  one's  normal  functions  after  a  journey, 
^  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  218. 

117 


u^ 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

a  battle,   a  period   of  mourning,   or  other  unusual 

experience. 

The  fundamental  importance  of  the  food  process  in 
sacrifice  may  be  stated  by  saying  that  the  sacred 
objects  themselves  were  sacrificed  at  first  instead  of 
having  sacrifices  made  to  them.  There  is  considerable 
evidence,  for  example,  that  in  totemism  the  totems 
were  originally  staple  articles  of  food,  both  plants  and 
animals.  Spencer  and  Gillen  hold  this  view  with  refer- 
ence to  the  Australian  tribes.  The  Intichiuma  cere- 
monies were  originally  elaborate  efforts  to  increase 
the  food  supply  by  increasing  the  totem.  "The  object 
of  increasing  the  number  of  the  totem  is,  in  all  cases, 
such  as  that  of  the  Hakea  or  Irriakura  or  plum  tree 
amongst  plants,  or  the  kangaroo,  euro,  Hzard,  snake, 
and  so  forth  amongst  animals,  in  which  the  totemic 
animal  or  plant  is  an  article  of  food,  that  of  increasing 
the  food  supply."  "At  some  earlier  time  it  would 
appear  as  if  the  members  of  a  totem  had  the  right  to 
feed  upon  the  totemic  animal  or  plant  as  if  this  were 
indeed  a  functional  necessity."  ^ 

They  also  refer  to  other  accounts  indicating  that 
tribes  derived  their  names  from  the  animals  and  fish 
upon  which  they  subsisted.  There  are  some  features 
of  the  ceremonies  of  these  Australians  which  justify  the 
suggestion  that  they  are  of  the  generic  nature  of  sacri- 
fice. The  following,  for  example,  has  many  points  of 
agreement  with  the  sacrificial  feasts  of  other  peoples: 
"In  the  case  of  the  kangaroo  totem  of  Undiara, 
after  the  men  have  allowed  the  blood  to  pour  out  of 

^  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp. 
207,  209. 

118 


SACRIFICE 

their  arms  over  the  stone  ledge,  they  descend,  and  after 
rubbing  themselves  all  over  with  red  ochre  return  to  the 
main  camp,  which  is  always  placed  at  some  distance 
from  the  rock  so  as  to  prevent  the  women  and  children 
from  being  able  to  see  anything  of  what  is  going  on.  All 
of  the  younger  men  then  go  out  hunting  kangaroo, 
which  when  caught  they  bring  in  to  the  old  men  who 
have  stayed  in  camp.  It  is  taken  to  the  Ungunja,  or 
men's  camp,  and  there  the  old  men  of  the  totem  eat  a 
little  and  then  anoint  the  bodies  of  those  who  took  part 
in  the  ceremony  with  fat  from  the  kangaroo,  after  which 
the  meat  is  distributed  to  all  the  men  assembled."  ' 

The  taboos  against  eating  the  totem  probably  arose 
when  it  became  scarce  or  when  the  habit  of  regarding 
the  totem  as  sacred  developed  the  restriction  of  its  use 
to  occasional  ceremonial  functions.  The  growth  of  the 
tendency  to  reserve  the  totem  for  ceremonial  feasts, 
and  then  to  partake  of  it  sparingly,  accords  with  the 
well-known  characteristic  of  habitual  activities  to 
develop  to  extremes,  and  even  to  interfere  with  tlieir 
original  effects.  In  this  way  the  very  awe  and  regard 
attached  to  an  article  of  food  because  of  its  life-giving 
power  might  naturally  enough  tend  to  remove  it  from 
common  use,  when  other  food  was  at  hand.  This 
would  explain  the  fact  that  often  a  clan  will  not  eat  its 
own  totem,  though  other  clans  are  free  to  eat  it. 

This  conception  of  the  totem  as  originally  an  article 
of  food  carries  the  act  of  sacrifice  down  to  a  deeper 
level  of  experience  than  is  possible  in  a  view  like  that 
of  Jevons,  where  totemism  is  regarded  as  degenerate 
and  disappearing  when  the  totem  is  used  for  food.   His 

*  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp.  204  f. 

119 


U" 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

position  does  not  explain  adequately  the  origin  or  the 
nature  of  totemism  or  the  ceremonial  acts  connected 
with  it.  It  is  necessary  for  him  to  assume  that  when 
objects  were  regarded  as  sacred  man  sought  to  get 
into  relation  with  them  by  contact  and  thus  some- 
times by  ceremonial  eating.  A  simpler  and  more 
psychological  explanation  is  that  since  food  was  a 
most  insistent  and  dominant  need  of  man  he  would 
y  be  particularly  interested  in  whatever  afforded  food. 
On  this  account  the  plant  or  animal  or  fish  which  satis- 
fied hunger  would  fix  attention  and  become  an  object 
of  intense  interest.  The  mystery  and  uncertainty  con- 
nected with  the  appearance  of  vegetation  and  with 
the  ways  of  animals  and  fish  would  contribute  to 
make  the  food  object  important.  We  have  already 
seen  that  precisely  this  fixing  of  attention,  heightening 
of  emotion,  and  recurrent  stimulation  make  things 
sacred  or  taboo.  The  savage,  even  at  a  low  stage,  may 
be  regarded  as  able  to  ascribe  his  strength  and  high 
spirits  to  the  object  he  has  eaten.  At  least  it  is  beyond 
question  that  he  would  recognize  the  food  object  as 
savory,  filling,  and  pleasant.  Immediate  relief  from 
hunger  and  pain  would  be  the  most  powerful  factor  in 
fixing  attention,  creating  awe,  and  eliciting  affection 
with  reference  to  the  food  object.  It  is  truer  then  to 
say  that  the  object  was  sacred  because  it  was  eaten 
with  satisfaction  than  to  say  it  was  eaten  because  it 
was  sacred  and  because  man  sought  thus  to  worship 
it.  Crawley  identifies  religion  throughout  with  the 
basic  biological  impulses,  and  with  reference  to  food  he 
says:  "The  food-quest  provides  the  earliest  illustra- 
tion of  the  way  in  which  he  (primitive  man)  lays  hold 

120 


SACRIFICE 

on  life.  It  is  the  most  engrossing  fact  of  primitive 
existence.  It  forms  the  staple  of  conversation  and 
takes  precedence  of  every  interest.  Man's  daily  bread 
thus  becomes  the  object  of  innumerable  acts  of  caution 
and  superstition."  ^ 

What  has  been  said  needs  to  be  supplemented  by 
emphasis  upon  the  social  nature  of  the  food  process  in 
order  to  bring  out  its  full  significance.  Evidence  is 
abundant  that  the  getting  and  use  of  food  among  sav- 
ages is  a  social  affair.  Game  may  be  killed  only  at  cer- 
tain times  prescribed  by  the  tribe  and  signalized  by 
ceremonies.  The  new  crops  are  taboo  until  their  use 
has  been  made  possible  and  safe  by  action  of  the 
group.  The  distribution  of  game  taken  by  the  hunter, 
even  to  the  designation  of  the  proper  recipients  of 
various  parts  of  the  carcass,  is  prescribed  by  custom. 
Howitt  gives  an  extended  account  of  the  rules  for  the 
disposal  of  game  and  fish  among  the  Kurnai  tribe  of 
South-east  Australia.  A  native  bear  is  divided  in  the 
following  manner:  Self,  left  ribs;  father,  right  hind 
leg;  mother,  left  hind  leg;  elder  brother,  right  fore- 
arm; younger  brother,  left  fore-arm.  The  elder  sister 
gets  the  backbone,  and  the  younger  the  liver.  The 
right  ribs  are  given  to  the  father's  brother,  a  piece  of 
the  flank  to  the  hunter's  mother's  brother,  and  the 
head  goes  to  the  young  men's  camp.^ 

These  various  social  restrictions  illustrate  the  im- 
portance of  the  food  object.  It  belongs  to  the  whole 
group  and  is  not  privately  appropriated.  This  aids  in 
developing  the  sense  of  sacredness  of  the  animal  or 

1  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Tree  of  Life,  p.  217. 
^  A.  W.  Howitt,  Native  Tribes  of  South-east  Australia,  p.  759. 

121 


l^ 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

cereal.  It  comes  therefore  to  be  treated  with  caution, 
so  that  before  eating  it  more  or  less  hesitancy,  pre- 
paration, and  ceremony  are  necessary.  Hence  arise 
the  ceremonials  of  the  sacrificial  feast. 

In  the  simplest  and  most  typical  form  of  sacrifice, 
attention  centres  in  the  sacrificial  object  and  in  its 
appropriation  by  the  participants.  The  animal  or 
plant  is  itself  the  divinity  and  the  act  of  sacrifice  com- 
pletes itself  in  the  direct  appropriation  of  the  food. 
The  sacrificial  feast  is  indeed  a  commensal  meal,  as 
Robertson  Smith  shows,  but  the  god  is  not  present  as 
a  guest  or  as  one  of  the  participants.  It  is  the  god 
itself  which  is  sacrificed  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  sup- 
pose that  reference  to  any  third  factor  is  involved. 
The  circuit  is  completed  when  the  food  is  eaten.  Great 
care  is  taken  to  devour  or  otherwise  dispose  of  every 
particle  of  the  sacred  object,  so  that  its  magic  power 
may  not  pass  beyond  those  to  whom  it  properly 
belongs.  A  particle  of  the  devoted  food  would  be  dan- 
gerous on  other  occasions  or  might  be  used  for  evil 
purposes  by  enemies.  The  primitive  manner  of  sac- 
rificing camels  among  the  Arabs  is  best  understood 
when  it  is  regarded  as  the  appropriation  of  the  divin- 
ity, every  particle  of  which  must  be  taken  by  the 
group  itself.  "In  the  oldest  known  form  of  Arabian 
sacrifice,  as  described  by  Nilus,  the  camel  chosen  as 
the  victim  is  bound  upon  a  rude  altar  of  stones  piled 
together,  and  when  the  leader  of  the  band  has  thrice 
led  the  worshipers  round  the  altar  in  a  solemn  pro- 
cession accompanied  with  chants  he  inflicts  the  first 
wound,  while  the  last  words  of  the  hymn  are  still 
upon  the  lips  of  the  congregation,  and  in  all  haste 

122 


SACRIFICE 

drinks  of  the  blood  that  gushes  forth.  Forthwith  the 
whole  company  fall  on  the  victim  with  their  swords, 
hacking  off  pieces  of  the  quivering  flesh  and  devouring 
them  raw  with  such  wild  haste  that  in  the  short  inter- 
val between  the  rise  of  the  day  star  which  marked 
the  hour  for  the  service  to  begin  and  the  disappear- 
ance of  its  rays  before  the  rising  sun  the  entire  camel, 
body  and  bones,  skin,  blood,  and  entrails,  is  wholly 
devoured."  ^ 

The  purpose  of  the  feast,  so  far  as  it  is  appropriate 
to  use  the  term  purpose  for  a  customary,  vaguely  con- 
scious act,  is  to  gain  the  magic  power  of  the  deity  thus 
devoured.  In  other  words  the  group  receives  in  this 
way  the  sacredness  or  taboo  that  belongs  to  the  food 
object.  This  sanctity  of  a  people  is  broken,  destroyed, 
or  weakened  by  death,  war,  sickness,  famine;  and  it  is 
threatened  by  any  unusual,  strange  phenomena  such 
as  an  eclipse  or  earthquake.  These  are  the  natural 
occasions  for  sacrifice.  It  is  also  true  that  sacrifice 
often  occurs  periodically,  as  at  the  approach  of  the 
seasons,  when  there  is  no  adverse  or  threatening  cir- 
cumstance involved  except  that  of  the  newness  itself. 
Indeed  the  sacrificial  feast  frequently  has  a  positively 
joyous  character,  due  to  the  increased  sense  of  power 
thus  obtained.  "So  the  Homeric  hymns  attribute  in- 
spiration to  food  and  tell  us  how  men  when  feasting 
feel  ageless  and  immortal."  This  participation  in  the 
qualities  of  objects  eaten  is  everywhere  in  evidence. 
Brave  and  crafty  enemies  are  devoured  to  secure  their 
courage  and  intelligence.  Cannibal  sacrificial  feasts 
are  therefore  not  to  be  regarded  as  mere  exhibitions  of 

*  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  338. 

123 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

depravity  nor  as  acts  designed  to  placate  demoniacal 
gods.  The  interest  is  more  direct  and  immediate.  It 
centres  in  taking  over  the  mysteriously  powerful 
enemy  into  the  life  of  the  group.  Under  the  same 
urgent  practical  desire  the  youth  at  initiation  is  fed 
upon  ashes  of  the  organs  of  powerful  enemies.  The 
liver  gives  valor,  the  ears  intelligence,  the  skin  of  the 
forehead  perseverance.^  The  same  principle  is  often 
operative  in  infanticide.  "In  the  Luritcha  tribe 
young  children  are  sometimes  killed  and  eaten,  and  it 
is  not  an  infrequent  custom  when  a  child  is  in  weak 
health  to  kill  a  younger  and  healthier  one  and  then 
feed  the  weakling  on  its  flesh,  the  idea  being  that  this 
will  give  to  the  weak  child  the  strength  of  the  stronger 
one.    ^ 

Frazer  has  gathered  a  profusion  of  examples  of  the 
eating  of  human  beings,  cereals,  and  animals  to  gain 
their  qualities.  The  North  American  Indians  eat 
venison  to  gain  swiftness  and  sagacity,  and  avoid  the 
flesh  of  clumsy  bear,  tame  cattle,  and  heavy  swine, 
lest  they  should  become  weakened  by  them.  The 
Indians  of  South  America  eat  birds,  monkeys,  deer, 
and  fish,  rather  than  the  tapir  and  peccary,  because  of 
the  greater  agility  of  the  former.  African  tribes  eat 
the  flesh  and  drink  the  blood  of  lions  and  tigers  to 
make  them  brave  in  battle.  Health  and  old  age  may 
be  attained  by  those  who  are  sick  by  eating  the  bone 
of  a  very  old  animal.  The  bile  of  tigers  and  bears 
gives  courage;  the  heart  of  a  wolf  or  lion  makes  one 
bold;    the  tongues  of  birds  help  a  child  to  learn  to 

»  J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  vol.  ii,  p.  357. 
«  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  475. 

124      ' 


SACRIFICE 

speak.  One  of  the  most  common  customs  is  the 
drinking  of  blood  to  absorb  the  quahties  of  men  and 
animals. 

Other  means  than  eating  these  substances  are  also 
used  to  gain  their  power.  Any  method  of  contact  is 
effective.  Sometimes  wounds  are  made  in  the  body  of 
the  "  worshiper"  and  the  powdered  ashes  of  the  magi- 
cal substance  are  rubbed  in.  The  practice  of  scarifica- 
tion may  thus  be  a  means  of  inoculation.  In  other 
instances  the  body  is  smeared  or  anointed  with  blood, 
fat,  excrements,  or  ashes  of  the  sacred  object.  In  all 
such  cases  the  principle  of  sympathetic  magic  is 
operative,  that  is,  he  who  eats  or  otherwise  is  in  con- 
tact with  the  sacred  thing  partakes  of  its  nature. 

There  is  still  another  form  in  which  this  principle  of  , 
identification  through  contact  is  basal,  but  one  which 
is  easily  mistaken  for  something  quite  different.  The 
widely  prevalent  custom  of  leaving  articles  at  sacred 
places  illustrates  it.  Offerings  of  hair,  garments,  valu- 
ables of  various  kinds  are  laid  on  the  altar,  placed 
upon  or  before  an  image  of  a  god,  thrown  into  sacred 
wells  or  hung  upon  trees.  On  the  same  principle  the 
devotee  may  drop  some  of  his  own  blood  or  shed  his 
tears  upon  the  sacred  object.  In  their  simplest,  primi- 
tive form  these  are  not  "gifts,"  nor  are  they  made 
over  "to"  a  deity.  They  are  rather  just  the  means  of 
identifying  one  with  the  sacred  object.  This  identifi- 
cation is  effected  by  leaving  a  part  of  one's  self  in  con- 
tact with  the  divinity  as  well  as  by  taking  a  part  of 
the  sacred  thing  to  eat  or  to  carry  about  on  the  per- 
son. If  a  Kafir's  sleeping  mat  touches  a  woman,  it  is 
as  though  she  had  touched  him.    In  either  case  she 

125 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

pollutes  him.  Clothing  put  upon  a  corpse  makes  the 
owner  languish  away  as  his  clothing  moulders  in  the 
grave.  Beneficial  relations  are  established  in  the  same 
way.  "The  practice  of  throwing  pins  into  wells,  of 
tying  rags  on  bushes  and  trees,  of  driving  nails  into 
trees  and  stocks,  of  throwing  stones  and  sticks  on 
cairns,  and  the  analogous  practices  throughout  the 
world,  suggest  that  they  are  to  be  interpreted  as  acts 
of  ceremonial  union  with  the  spirit  identified  with 
w^ell,  tree,  stock,  or  cairn."  ^  Robertson  Smith  has 
shown  that  among  the  Semites  also  such  acts  are  not 
gifts  but  means  of  binding  together  man  and  the 
sacred  object.  He  further  insists  that  this  unification 
through  contact  is  the  central  fact  in  "sacrifice,"  and 
that  sacrifice  does  not  therefore  primarily  involve  the 
death  or  pain  of  the  victim,  nor  shedding  of  blood. 
The  instructiveness  of  the  customs  of  offering  hair, 
garments,  and  such  objects  is  that  they  make  trans- 
parent the  act  of  "sacrifice"  and  disclose  its  fun- 
damental character,  namely,  the  possession  of  an 
object's  potency  by  contact  with  it.  Killing  a  victim 
is  originally  only  an  incident  in  the  process  of  appro- 
priating its  magical  properties.  By  placing  one's  hair 
upon  the  sacred  object  the  same  result  is  attained  as 
by  eating  the  god.  In  such  ceremonies  the  simple  con- 
tact experience  is  not  obscured  or  confused  by  the 
death  of  the  victim  or  by  any  penal  satisfaction  to  the 
deity.  These  things  were  at  first  only  incidental  to  the 
use  of  animals.  When  it  is  seen  that  the  essence  of 
sacrifice  is  contact,  then  the  material  and  the  manner 
of  the  contact  become  relatively  unimportant,  and  the 
1  A.  C.  Haddon,  Magic  and  Fetishism,  p.  8. 
126 


SACRIFICE 

student  is  prepared  to  find  the  widest  variation  and 
yet  an  underlying  unity  in  the  ceremonials  of  all  peo- 
ples. Sacrifice  may  then  be  regarded  as  a  universal 
custom.  The  use  of  blood  is  just  one  form  of  it.  Any- 
thing else  connected  with  the  person  may  become  the 
bond.  Various  offerings  may  accomplish  the  purpose. 
The  important  fact  is  that  "the  physical  link  which 
they  establish  between  the  divine  and  the  human 
parties  in  the  rite  binds  the  god  to  the  man  as  well  as 
the  man  to  the  god."  ^ 

The  occasions  on  which  sacrifices  are  offered  make 
it  clear  that  sacrifice  is  a  ceremony  in  which  union 
with  the  powerful  sacred  object  is  effected  in  order 
to  strengthen  the  group  against  calamity  or  to  renew 
bonds  which  have  been  broken  by  tabooed  conduct. 
We  have  seen  that  all  novel,  unusual  activities  are 
taboo,  such  as  journeying  into  an  unknown  country  or 
meeting  enemies  or  strangers.  But  such  things  are 
often  necessary,  and  therefore  a  set  of  customs  arise 
by  which  taboos  may  be  overcome.  The  effect  of 
these  customs  is  to  possess  one's  self  of  more  powerful 
qualities  than  are  present  in  the  thing  to  be  dealt 
with.  Therefore  the  savage  makes  himself  immune,  as 
it  were,  from  approaching  dangers  by  filling  himself 
with  the  magic  of  his  totem  or  other  divinity.  Or, 
after  he  has  been  surcharged  with  the  qualities  of 
tabooed  objects,  as  in  battle,  he  renews  his  alliance 
with  his  familiar  deities  by  various  ceremonies.  Illus- 
trations of  these  two  types  of  sacrifice  are  plentiful. 
To  the  first  belong  the  feasts  which  warriors  hold 
before  going  to  battle.  Here  belong  the  ceremonials 
1  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  337. 

127 


PSYCHOLOGY   OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

preparatory  to  building  houses,  planting  crops,  under- 
taking journeys.  In  principle,  the  initiation  of  youth 
is  of  this  kind.  It  involves  bringing  an  outsider  into 
the  group  and  inoculating  him  with  its  life,  without 
breaking  the  sanctity  of  the  group  itself.  The  union 
of  the  sexes  in  marriage  is  likewise  dangerous  and 
requires  caution.  Any  event  which  promises  strange 
developments,  such  as  an  eclipse  or  a  sudden,  violent 
storm,  requires  sacrifices  —  not  primarily  to  placate 
angry  gods  so  much  as  to  get  into  relation  with  the 
powerful  agencies. 

The  second  class  of  occasions  for  sacrifice  are  still 
more  important  in  the  history  of  religion.  They  are 
the  occasions  when  taboos  have  actually  been  broken 
and  the  evil  consequences  have  to  be  dealt  with;  or 
when  natural  taboos  have  to  be  overcome.  As  in- 
stances of  this  may  be  cited  the  ceremonies  when 
women  return  to  the  camp  after  childbirth,  when 
warriors  and  travelers  return  home,  when  the  sick 
regain  health,  and  when  mourners  return  from  the 
burial  of  the  dead.  These  are  known  as  rites  of  purifi- 
cation, but  the  purifying  process  is  usually  interpreted 
with  too  modern  a  meaning.  One  of  the  commonest 
methods  of  overcoming  taboo  is  by  the  use  of  water. 
This  is  not  because  water  cleanses  in  a  hygienic  sense, 
but  because  it  is  full  of  magic  power.  It  is  sacred.  Its 
ways  are  full  of  mystery.  It  comes  and  goes  in  the 
strangest  manner.  As  rain,  it  transforms  the  face  of 
the  earth.  As  drink  it  refreshes  man  and  beast.  It  is 
ever  moving  in  the  stream  or  lake  and  is  by  every 
token  a  wonderful  divinity.  By  sprinkling,  bathing, 
drinking,  or  otherwise  coming  into  contact  with  it  one 

128 


/^ 


SACRIFICE 

renews  a  powerful  alliance.  Water  is  seemingly  used 
just  as  blood  is.  The  latter  is  smeared  over  the  body 
or  it  is  drunk.  Fat  and  oil  are  often  employed  in  the 
same  Avay.  In  India  and  Africa,  where  the  cow  is 
sacred,  the  floors,  walls  of  houses,  beds,  and  food 
baskets  are  cleansed  with  cow  dung.  It  is  the  mys- 
terious sanctity  of  the  object  which  makes  it  impor- 
tant in  purification,  and  this  quality  is  transferred  to 
any  person  or  thing  by  contact.  Fire  ceremonies  may 
be  interpreted  in  the  same  way.  Fire  is  itself  sacred 
and  therefore  imparts  sacredness  to  all  it  touches. 
Smoke  and  incense  are  great  cleansers,  not  so  much  l^ 

because  they  remove  the  taboo  as  that  they  establish 
a  more  powerful  one.  In  many  cases  the  taboo  is 
treated  as  a  physical  thing  to  be  got  rid  of  by  literally 
putting  it  aside.  But  it  is  not  always  possible  to  decide 
whether  the  contact  takes  off  uncleanness  or  simply 
brings  in  greater  magic.  For  example,  "if  a  man  ate 
food  with  tabooed  hands,  he  avoided  dangerous 
results  by  putting  the  foot  of  a  chief  on  his  stomach." 
In  such  a  case,  does  something  pass  out  of  the  man 
to  the  chief,  or  does  the  magic  of  the  chief  flow  into 
the  man. 5^  Robertson  Smith  puts  the  matter  clearly 
thus:  "In  the  most  primitive  form  of  the  sacrificial 
idea  the  blood  of  the  sacrifice  is  not  employed  to  wash 
away  an  impurity,  but  to  convey  to  the  w  orshiper  a 
particle  of  holy  life.  The  conception  of  piacular  media 
as  purificatory,  however,  involves  the  notion  that  the 
holy  medium  not  only  adds  something  to  the  wor- 
shiper's life  and  refreshes  its  sanctity,  but  expels  some- 
thing from  him  that  is  impure.  The  two  views  are 
obviously  not  inconsistent,  if  we  conceive  impurity  as 

129 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  wrong  kind  of  life,  which  is  dispossessed  by  inocu- 
lation with  the  right  kind."  ^ 

When,  then,  sacrifice  is  examined  in  order  to  answer 
the  question,  What  is  done  ?  rather  than  What  is  be- 
lieved ?  it  becomes  clear  that  it  must  be  said,  a  con- 
tact is  established  with  a  sacred  object  in  order  to 
become  possessed  of  its  sanctity.  Sacredness  and 
sanctity  here  mean  mysterious  power,  for  everything 
which  manifests  mysterious  activity  is  sacred  to  the 
savage  mind.  Sacrifice  is  chiefly  accomplished  by  eat- 
ing the  sacred  thing  because  that  is  the  surest  way 
of  securing  its  qualities.  But  sacrifice  may  also  be 
effected  by  a  variety  of  methods  of  contact,  as  has 
been  shown.  With  the  development  of  social  customs 
and  organization  the  mysterious  forces  come  to  be 
identified  with  certain  objects  or  persons  preemi- 
nently, and  these  make  the  choicest  sacrifices,  because 
they  are  most  completely  filled  with  magic  power. 
Such  objects  are  periodically  distributed  to  the  people 
to  sanctify  and  strengthen  them.  In  many  instances 
the  ceremonies  of  sacrifice  are  preceded  by  fasting,  so 
that  counter  influences  may  not  hinder  the  attainment 
of  the  full  force  of  the  sacrament,  and  also,  doubtless, 
in  primitive  times  in  order  to  enable  one  to  appropri- 
ate the  largest  possible  amount.  In  this  view  every 
stage  of  the  history  of  sacrifice  continues  the  original 
act  of  participating  in  the  divine  life.  The  victim  is 
not  sacrificed  when  it  is  slain  but  rather  when  it  is 
eaten.  The  killing  is  incidental  and  preparatory.  The 
body  and  the  blood  are  for  the  worshipers  —  not  for 
the  god.   It  is  the  god  which  has  been  slain  in  order 

1  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  427. 

130 


SACRIFICE 

that  his  followers  may  share  his  life.  The  idea  of  the 
victim  being  "offered"  to  the  god  is  a  late  develop- 
ment. Even  the  interpretation  of  Robertson  Smith 
that  the  offering  is  shared  by  the  worshipers  with  the 
god  is  not  the  original  significance.  He  himself  shows 
that  the  victim  is  the  most  sacred  thing  in  the  sac- 
rificial ceremony.  The  altar  does  not  consecrate  the 
sacrifice,  but  the  animal  offered  makes  the  altar  holy. 
When  the  altar  evolves  into  the  altar-idol,  it  is  still 
the  sacrifice  which  makes  the  idol  sacred.  The  victim 
is  the  source  of  holiness  and  there  is  nothing  more  holy 
"to"  which  it  is  offered.  It  is  not  difficult  to  under- 
stand the  psychological  processes  conducive  to  the  dis- 
crimination and  objectification  of  individuality  —  as 
in  barter  and  in  covenants  —  by  which  at  a  later  time 
the  relations  were  reversed  and  the  god  abstracted 
from  the  ceremony  and  set  over  against  it,  but  this 
appears  to  have  been  an  incident  in  the  total  history 
of  sacrifice.  "It  is  the  sacred  blood  that  makes  the 
stone  holy  and  a  habitation  of  divine  life  .  .  .  and  the 
place  where  blood  has  once  been  shed  is  the  fittest 
place  to  shed  it  again."  ^ 

It  is  now  possible  to  deal  with  the  conception  of 
sacrifice  as  an  atonement  for  sin.  The  idea  of  sin  as  the 
individual  or  national  transgression  of  moral  law  is 
extremely  modern.    In  primitive  times  there  was  no  ^. 

such  individual  act  and  no  such  moral  law.  The  only 
misconduct  was  a  breach  of  custom,  the  violation  of 
taboo.  The  atonement  necessary  was  therefore  some- 
thing which  would  counteract  the  evil  influence  and  off- 
set the  effects  of  disintegrating,  poisonous  forces  by 
1  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  436. 

131 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

beneficent,  recreative  powers.  "At  this  earliest  stage 
the  atoning  force  of  sacrifice  is  purely  physical,  and 
consists  in  the  redintegration  of  the  congenital  bond 
of  kinship,  on  which  the  good  understanding  between 
the  god  and  his  worshippers  ultimately  rests."  The 
piacular  sacrifices  of  the  Hebrews  seem  to  perpetuate 
just  this  fundamental  function.  They  retain  in  later 
Judaism  a  prominent  place  because  they  are  survivals 
of  earlier  nomadic  conditions  of  life  and  consequently 
have  the  greater  sanctity  which  goes  with  older  cus- 
toms. They  are  used,  not  as  inventions  to  express  a 
new  idea  of  sin  and  to  effect  a  corresponding  atone- 
ment; but  in  an  agricultural  period  they  survive  as 
ceremonies  which  are  particularly  effective  because 
they  are  ancient.  The  seemingly  exceptional  charac- 
ter of  the  piacular  sacrifices  is  due  to  their  great  anti- 
quity rather  than  to  their  novelty,  and  they  preserve 
their  character  as  the  most  powerful  means  of  over- 
coming taboos  rather  than  appearing  as  agencies  for 
the  removal  of  a  new  sense  of  sin. 

The  continuity  of  sacrificial  ceremonials  is  empha- 
sized by  this  fact.  Heretofore  by  identifying  sacrifice 
with  atonement  for  the  sense  of  sin  alleged  to  be  pecu- 
liar to  the  Hebrews,  it  has  been  easy  to  deny  that  the 
ceremonies  of  various  primitive  peoples  are  sacrificial 
in  character.  But  when  it  is  seen  that  sacrifice  is  cere- 
monial contact  with  sacred  objects,  then  the  act  is 
presented  in  a  perspective  sufficient  to  include  the 
rites  of  the  American  Indian,  the  Australian,  and  the 
African  as  well  as  those  of  the  Asiatic,  Indian,  and 
European.  All  have  purificatory  rites  for  the  removal 
of  taboos  and  for  the  prevention  of  pollution.   These 

132 


SACRIFICE 

ceremonies  agree  also  in  their  habitual,  customary, 
non-rational  nature.  The  ritual  of  purification  is  not 
hygienic.  The  ritual  distinction  between  clean  and 
unclean  things  coincides  by  accident,  if  at  all,  with  the 
contrast  between  the  wholesome  and  the  unwhole- 
some. Sometimes  the  ritual  of  purification  interferes 
with  the  welfare  of  the  group.  Such  was  the  case  of 
the  North  American  Indian  tribe  which  was  extirpated 
because  it  needed  a  month  to  wipe  off  the  stain  of  a 
single  conflict,  while  their  enemies  needed  only  a  week 
for  that  purpose  and  therefore  had  the  advantage  of 
three  weeks'  start  in  preparing  for  the  next  attack.^ 

The  real  value  of  the  sacrifice  lay  in  its  power  of 
consolidating  the  social  life  of  the  group.  The  suggest- 
ive, mimetic  drama  developed  an  intense  emotional 
state,  the  central  element  of  which  was  the  sense  of 
identity  in  the  participants  with  one  another,  with 
their  ancestors,  and  with  the  mysterious  beings  which 
were  eaten  in  the  feast  or  otherwise  secured.  The 
actual  physical  strength  derived  from  the  flesh  and 
blood  of  the  victim  was  multiplied  by  the  psychical 
impression  which  it  conveyed.  Thus  the  warriors 
gained  courage  for  battle,  the  fear-ridden  found  peace. 
If  the  suggestion  of  having  eaten  forbidden  food  is 
powerful  enough  to  cause  sickness  and  death,  then 
the  participation  in  divine  food  which  is  believed  to 
possess  the  highest  possible  magical  potency  should 
induce  hope  and  energetic  effort. 

^  L.  R.  Farnell,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  p.  94. 


L^ 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PRAYER 

Prayer  occupies  a  secondary  and  relatively  sub- 
ordinate place  in  primitive  religion.  This  is  indicated 
superficially  by  the  fact  that  treatises  such  as  Tylor's 
"Primitive  Culture,"  Smith's  "Religion  of  the  Sem- 
ites," Jevons'  "Introduction  to  the  History  of  Reli- 
gion" scarcely  contain  the  term  prayer  and  give 
almost  no  consideration  to  it.  Yet  prayer,  if  the  word 
is  used  broadly,  is  almost  as  universal  as  sacrifice  in 
primitive  religion  and  persists  in  later  faiths  in  refined 
and  ideal  forms  when  sacrifice  has  ceased. 

Prayer  at  first  sight  seems  very  obviously  and  in- 
separably bound  up  with  ideas  of  spirits.  It  appears 
therefore  to  justify  more  than  anything  else  the  intel- 
lectual view  of  religion.  Why,  it  may  be  said,  should 
the  savage  pray,  if  he  has  no  definite  idea  of  a  being  or 
beings  to  whom  he  prays  ?  Is  there  not  here  evidence 
that  the  act  of  prayer  presupposes  necessarily  belief 
in  supernatural  beings  ?  The  approach  to  the  subject 
of  prayer  lies  through  the  phenomena  of  speech.  But 
speech  itself  is  for  civilized  man  a  product  so  highly 
"5ivrought  that  it  is  diflScult  to  estimate  its  early  forms 
properly.  In  its  beginnings  language  is  a  matter  of 
gestures  and  of  inarticulate  cries  and  calls. ^  These 
expressions  are  older  than  w^ords,  which  arose  subse- 
quently as  aids  to  the  earlier  and  more  natural  form 
I  ^  E,  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  chap,  v;  Anthropology,  chap.  iv. 

134 


PRAYER 

of  communication.  Gestures  are  more  elemental  and 
more  universally  understood  than  is  any  spoken  lan- 
guage. How  serviceable  gestures  are  may  be  seen  jn 
such  a  list  of  signs  as  Howitt  gives  from  the  usage  of 
the  tribes  of  South-east  Australia.^  Articulate  speech 
in  modern  times  still  depends  to  an  appreciable  degree 
for  vividness  and  power  upon  facial  expression  and 
other  bodily  signs.  It  continues  to  be  one  element  in  a 
complex  whole.  In  its  simple  form  the  process  may  be 
thought  of  in  terms  of  nervous  energy  overflowing  into 
various  motor  centres  and  thus  producing  muscular 
reactions.  In  this  system  of  movements  are  those  of 
the  vocal  organs,  which  under  the  inhalation  and 
expulsion  of  air  produce  sounds,  —  the  rudimentary 
vocalizations  from  which  speech  is  gradually  devel- 
oped. The  cry  of  pain  and  the  grunt  of  satisfaction 
are  the  beginnings  of  the  vocabulary  and  these  are 
shared  by  man  with  the  lower  animals.  They  are 
thoroughly  instinctive  and  relatively  unconscious 
reactions  which  occur  in  response  to  stimuli  of  differ- 
ent kinds,  often  without  reference  to  communication 
with  other  beings. 

Articulate  speech  does  not  justify  the  assumption 
that  the  speaker  has  in  mind  any  clear  conception  of 
the  nature  of  the  one  addressed.  The  child  certainly 
does  not  construct  a  notion  of  the  personality  of  his 
parents  before  communicating  with  them.  His  prattle 
is  quite  submerged  in  his  instinctive  and  imitative 
activities  and  proceeds  in  the  vaguest  way  with  refer- 
ence even  to  his  own  wants  and  satisfactions.  Lan- 
guage may  reach  high  development  with  the  child 
^_     ^  A.  W.  Howitt,  Native  Tribes  of  South-east  Australia,  p.  727. 

135 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

or  savage  without  introspection  or  careful  reflection. 
Exclamatory  speech  and  indeed  extended  and  elabor- 
ate utterance  may  occur  under  emotional  stimulation 
or  in  habitual  experiences  without  denoting  any  such 
depth  of  awareness  or  insight  as  is  often  attributed  to 
them.  It  is  therefore  utterly  fallacious  to  suppose  that 
speech  is  always  directed  to  definitely  apprehended  per- 
sons. Gestures  and  words  are  so  wrought  into  complex 
motor  reactions  that  they  occur  incipiently,  at  least, 
wherever  there  is  vivid  consciousness.  They  tend  to 
become  automatic  in  the  same  way  as  do  other  activi- 
ties. Civilized  man  reacts  quite  automatically  with 
vigorous  speech  upon  many  occasions  when  his  words 
do  not  have  any  clearly  conceived  object.  He  talks 
to  inanimate  objects,  to  tools,  machines,  trees,  and 
stones.  Our  tirades  against  chairs  we  stumble  over 
are  instructive  illustrations  of  the  tendency  of  intense 
emotional  states  to  release  torrents  of  words.  It  is 
therefore  to  be  expected  that  speech  will  often  be 
found  to  occur  among  primitive  people  as  a  kind 
of  explosive  accompaniment  of  emotion  and  as  an 
attendant  phase  of  common  actions.  These  actions 
involve  the  whole  motor  zone  and  involve  the  speech 
centres  as  well  as  those  of  the  eye  and  hand.  The 
chatter  of  monkeys,  the  prattle  of  children,  and  the 
talkativeness  of  uncultivated  men  indicates  how  lan- 
guage is  entwined  with  the  total  activity  of  the  organ- 
ism. The  relatively  numerous  sound-words  in  every 
language  are  also  suggestive  of  the  imitative  and  im- 
mediate character  of  speech.  Language  only  attains 
relative  independence  and  becomes  indicative  of  a 
high  degree  of  intellection  when  considerable  power  of 

136 


PRAYER 

abstraction  is  attained.  Even  written  words  remain 
for  a  long  period  incidental  to  picture-writing,  just  as 
articulate  sounds  are  long  secondary  to  gestures. 

The  social  origin  and  the  social  significance  of  lan- 
guage is  not  disregarded  in  the  foregoing.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly true  that  speech  is  interlocutory  in  form, 
and  this  form  is  due  to  its  nature  as  social  discourse. 
But  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  insist  that  it  therefore 
carries  a  constant  and  definite  reference  to  other  per- 
sons or  selves  in  any  such  sophisticated  way  as  would 
justify  the  conclusion  that  the  speaker  always  has  in 
mind  some  conception  of  the  fact  or  the  meaning  of 
personality.  The  speech  reaction  may  be  regarded  as 
elaborating  itself  below  the  threshold  of  consciousness 
of  the  self  speaking  or  of  the  self  addressed.  The  notes 
of  distress,  of  warning,  of  solicitation  among  birds  and 
other  animals  involve  a  social  situation  and  imply  a 
reference  to  others,  but  this  is  not  sufficient  ground 
for  concluding  that  these  creatures  consciously  address 
their  kind  or  that  their  use  of  such  communication 
depends  upon  recognizing  personality  in  those  influ- 
enced. In  the  same  way  the  fact  that  human  speech 
grows  up  in  societies  of  human  beings  is  not  evidence 
that  the  members  of  such  societies  have  any  clear  con- 
sciousness of  their  own  nature.  Speech,  that  is,  some 
form  of  communication,  is  so  constant  and  habitual 
an  atmosphere  for  human  beings  that  it  is  taken  for 
granted  without  reflection.  It  is  as  far  removed  from 
conscious  analysis  as  walking  or  breathing.  The  child 
acquires  it  literally  before  he  knows  it.  And  even  if 
experience  forces  him  later  to  take  account  of  differ- 
ences in  the  languages  of  different  tribes,  or  of  indi- 

137 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

viduals  in  his  own  group,  he  is  still  far  short  of  such 
psychological  or  metaphysical  questions  as  those 
which  relate  to  the  concept  of  personality.  Language 
grows  up  as  social  habit,  under  the  stress  of  practical 
needs,  and  is  carried  on  in  a  thoroughly  objective  way. 
The  social  origin  and  the  naive  use  of  speech  are  not 
incompatible.  It  is  therefore  fallacious  to  infer  that 
its  social  character  is  evidence  of  the  presence  of 
notions  of  ego  and  alter  or  of  any  idea  of  personality. 
The  use  of  personal  pronouns  is  therefore  to  be 
estimated  cautiously  in  this  connection.  They  desig- 
nate immediate  concrete  phases  of  experience  rather 
than  organized  generalizations.  The  terms  "I,"  "me," 
and  "mine,"  even  at  advanced  stages,  have  shifting, 
vague  emotional  contents.  Professor  James  has  shown 
how  concrete  and  unsteady  such  conceptions  are.^ 
And  yet  these  forms  of  expression  are  so  much  a  part 
of  language  and  answer  so  surely  to  vivid  mental 
images  that  they  are  inevitable.  The  talk  of  children 
at  their  play  is  typical.  "R.,  beginning  when  about 
three  years  of  age,  almost  invariably  talked  aloud 
while  he  was  playing  alone  —  which,  as  he  was  a  first 
child,  was  very  often  the  case.  Most  commonly  he 
would  use  no  form  of  address  but  'you,'  and  per- 
haps had  no  definite  person  in  mind.  To  listen  to  him 
was  like  hearing  one  at  the  telephone,  though  occa- 
sionally he  would  give  both  sides  of  the  conversation. 
At  times  again  he  would  be  calling  upon  some  real 
name,  Esyllt  or  Dorothy,  or  upon  'Piggj%'  a  fanciful 
person  of  his  o\\ti  invention.   Every  thought  seemed 

»  William  James,  Psychology,  chap,  x;  cf.  C.  H.  Cooley,  Human  Na- 
lure  and  the  Social  Order,  chap.  v. 

138 


PRAYER 

to  be  spoken  out.  If  his  mother  called  him,  he  would 
say,  'I've  got  to  go  in  now.'  Once  when  he  slipped 
down  on  the  floor  he  was  heard  to  say,  *  Did  you 
tumble  down?'  'No,  /  did.'"  ^  The  narrator  of  these 
observations  is  right  in  saying  that  such  conversations 
are  not  merely  occasional  and  temporary,  but  are 
characteristic  and  underlie  all  thinking.  "It  is  true 
of  adults  as  of  children,  that  the  mind  lives  in  per- 
petual conversation."  But  such  conversation  does 
not  imply  any  speculative  or  metaphysical  notion  of 
the  self.  The  personal  pronouns  used  are  just  those 
of  "common  speech  and  workaday  usefulness"  with- 
out ulterior  reference  or  implication. 

These  observations  suggest  the  point  of  view  from 
which  prayer  is  treated.  No  more  than  speech  does 
prayer  presuppose  some  theory  concerning  the  nature 
of  that  to  which  it  seems  to  be  directed.  Neither  does 
it  involve  any  doctrine  of  the  nature  of  the  self.  In 
many  cases  it  satisfies  itself  immediately  as  impulsive 
expression  and  at  other  times  as  a  factor  in  establish- 
ing contact  with  sacred  objects  or  in  otherwise  con- 
trolling them.  The  fact  that  the  sacred  objects  are 
spoken  to  does  not  prove  the  presence  of  any  definite 
notion  of  their  spiritual  nature.  Many  facts  in  primi- 
tive religion  may  be  cited  in  support  of  this  position. 

The  various  forms  of  articulate  speech  in  connection 
with  religious  activities  are  imbedded  within  the  cere- 
monial rites  and  are  subservient  to  them.  In  many 
instances,  as  in  songs,  chants,  and  prayer  formulae  the 
words  seem  quite  incidental  accompaniments.  They 
merely  assert  that  certain  actions  are  taking  place. 
^  C.  H.  Cooley,  Human  Nature  and  the  Social  Order,  p.  53. 

139 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Here  is  an  example  from  a  magical  ceremony  of  a 
Kafir  chief.  He  is  warding  off  evil  magic  and  turning 
the  scales  on  his  enemy.  After  washing  himself,  he 
takes  a  vessel  and  churns  medicines  in  it,  saying  to 
himself  all  the  time,  "Now  I  am  overcoming  my 
enemy:  I  have  overcome  him,  in  fact:  he  is  here  in  my 
vessel:  he  is  vanquished:  I  am  treading  on  him:  I  am 
conquering  him  just  now:  in  fact,  he  is  killed  already 
by  my  magic:  I  can  see  this  by  the  churning  of  my 
vessel."*  Every  one  occasionally  has  analogous  expe- 
riences of  accompanying  the  deed  with  the  word.  For 
example,  the  boating  party  sings,  "Merrily  we  roll 
along  o'er  the  dark  blue  sea."  Harvest  festivals  with 
the  songs  of  the  reapers,  warriors  with  their  chants, 
athletes  with  their  slogans  asserting  prowess  and 
strength  illustrate  the  principle.  Marett  expressly 
recognizes  this  feature  in  many  prayer  formulae.  He 
says:  "Such  a  verbal  accompaniment  will  either  be 
purely  expletive,  or  it  may  be  what  I  call  'descrip- 
tive,' as  when  a  child  making  a  picture  of  a  man  says 
aloud  to  himself,  'I  am  making  a  man.'" 

This  exclamatory  or  descriptive  character  of  simple 
prayer  formulae  is  confirmed  by  Rivers'  account  of  the 
Toda  prayers.  He  summarizes  the  words  of  the  dairy 
ritual  thus:  "May  it  be  well  with  the  buffaloes,  may 
they  not  suffer  from  disease  or  die,  may  they  be  kept 
from  poisonous  animals  and  from  wild  beasts  and 
from  injury  by  flood  or  fire,  may  there  be  water  and 
grass  in  plenty."  ^  Rivers'  comment  on  these  prayers 
is  that  there  is  no  evidence  that  they  contain  any  sup- 

1  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  p.  308. 

2  W.  H.  R.  Rivers,  "Toda  Prayer,"  Folk-lore,  1904,  pp.  168,  178. 

140 


PRAYER 

plication.  "The  gods  are  not  directly  invoked:  the 
name  of  no  god  is  ever  mentioned  in  vocative  form, 
and  in  some  prayers  there  may  be  barely  mention  of  a 
god  at  all."  He  shows  that  these  formulae  are  used 
in  exactly  the  same  way  in  the  case  of  a  god  as  in  the 
case  of  a  buffalo,  a  place,  a  dairy  vessel,  or  other  even 
meaner  object.  This  is  precisely  what  would  be  ex- 
pected upon  the  view  we  have  been  considering,  for 
it  shows  that  the  "god"  is  the  same  as  the  sacred 
object,  —  buffalo,  dairy,  dairy  vessel,  or  whatever  it 
may  be.  The  ceremonials  express  the  natural  desire 
that  it  may  be  well  with  these  most  important  objects 
and  that  they  may  continue  their  beneficent  influence. 
It  is  as  possible  to  have  prayer  which  is  not  prayer 
"to"  some  person  or  thing,  as  to  have  sacrifice  which 
is  not  sacrifice  "to"  some  person  or  thing. ^ 

This  conception  of  speech  as  an  accompanying  ex- 
pression is  well  illustrated  in  the  chants  and  songs  of 
the  ceremonials.  Often  the  words  used  are  quite  mean- 
ingless In  themselves.  But  perhaps  the  non-rational 
use  of  the  words  in  such  rhythmical  sounds  reveals 
most  clearly  the  relation  of  such  expressions  to  the 
main  activity.  Kidd  says  of  the  Kafirs,  "They  have 
endless  chants.  As  the  Machilla  boys  carry  a  traveler 
they  keep  up  a  sing-song  chant  all  day.  Natives  sing 
as  they  row  their  canoes,  and  chant  as  they  run  with 
a  load:  yet  all  the  time  their  words  are  practically 
devoid  of  meaning."  ^  He  reports  the  following  song 

1  In  the  article  referred  to,  Rivers  is  puzzled  to  account  for  the  lack  of 
the  definite  reference  of  prayer  "to"  the  gods,  but  upon  the  above  men- 
tioned principles  that  diSiculty  disappears. 

2  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essential  Kafir,  pp.  333  f. 

141 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

which  a  missionary  heard  some  women  chanting  as 
they  walked  off  to  hunt  for  a  lost  cow :  — 

We  say,  let  her  come,  let  her  come,  we  are  calling  her: 
Our  cow,  let  her  come,  we  are  calling  her: 
Let  her  come  to  me,  then  let  her  come : 
Our  cow,  let  her  come,  we  are  calling  her. 

Spencer  and  Gillen  give  many  chants  used  by  the 
Australians  in  their  ceremonies.  During  one  of  the 
initiation  performances,  while  the  performer  was  being 
decorated  with  an  elaborate  head-dress,  "the  men  sit- 
ting around  sang  of  the  hair-knot  of  Kukaitcha,  the 
latter  being  a  celebrated  man  of  the  Alcheringa  asso- 
ciated with  the  plum  tree  totem,  the  top-knot  having 
reference  to  the  manner  in  which  the  hair  is  worn  pre- 
vious to  the  boy's  passing  through  the  ceremony  of 
circumcision.  Time  after  time  some  such  simple  re- 
frain was  repeated  while  the  down  was  fixed  on  to  the 
performer's  head-dress  and  body."  ^  Of  the  same 
character  apparently  are  the  songs  of  the  North 
American  Indians.  Their  mystery  songs  are  said  to 
have  originated  in  times  of  need,  "when  healing 
plants  were  gathered  and  when  the  medicine  was 
administered:  when  a  man  set  his  traps  or  hunted 
game:  when  he  desired  to  look  into  the  future  or 
sought  supernatural  guidance  or  deliverance  from  im- 
pending danger."^ 

That  the  prayer  or  kindred  expressions,  such  as 
chant  or  song,  is  not  something  primary  and  inde- 
pendent is  seen  in  the  fact  that  prayer  seldom,  if  ever, 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  290. 
»  Alice  Fletcher,  Indian  Story  and  Song  from  North  America,  pp.  27, 
114. 

142 


PRAYER 

occurs  alone.  It  is  always  part  of  some  ceremony  or, 
at  least,  accompanies  an  objective  act  of  some  kind. 
Even  in  the  most  rationalized  and  ethicized  religions, 
the  bodily  attitude  of  kneeling  or  bowing,  that  is,  the 
action,  is  maintained  with  scrupulous  care.  The  same 
words  said  in  other  attitudes  are  felt  to  be  inefficient 
and  may  even  be  regarded  as  impious.  The  improper 
use  of  prayer  is  regarded  as  dangerous.  It  is  likely 
to  recoil  disastrously  upon  the  offender.  The  action 
thus  remains  in  control,  and  the  prayers  are  contribut- 
ing elements  to  the  larger,  more  objective  ceremonial 
or  practical  element. 

But  the  prayer  does  not  remain  a  mere  accompani- 
ment. It  has  power  and  does  work.  It  exerts  magical 
influence.  It  "forms  an  integral  part  of  the  rite  since 
it  helps  the  action  out."  The  magical  power  of  words 
is  seen  in  the  charming  of  a  bone,  stick,  or  spear  by 
"singing"  it.  It  is  thus  supposed  to  be  endowed  with 
magical,  poisonous  properties.  Any  native  who  be- 
lieves himself  to  have  been  struck  with  a  charmed 
spear  will  be  almost  sure  to  die.^  The  power  of  words 
is  felt  to  be  mysteriously  projected  through  space. 
Thus  in  West  Africa  the  women  at  home  help  their 
husbands  on  the  distant  battlefield  by  singing  as  they 
dance:  "Our  husbands  have  gone  to  Ashantee  land: 
may  they  sweep  their  enemies  off  the  face  of  the  earth." 
In  the  Kei  islands  the  women  wave  fans  and  say,  "O 
golden  fans,  let  our  bullets  hit,  and  those  of  the  enemy 
miss."  Marett  observes  in  reference  to  this  instance 
that  we  must  not  make  too  much  of  such  a  change 
from   impersonal   mention   to   personal   address.     It 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  537. 

143 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

implies  no  more  than  a  slight  increase  in  vividness  of 
idea. 

Yet  he  goes  on  to  argue  that  prayer  proper  involves 
the  process  of  personification.  The  impersonal  form 
he  designates  a  "spell."  But  it  is  not  difficult  to  show 
that  the  element  of  compulsion,  of  magical  control, 
persists  long  after  the  sacred  object  seems  to  be  quite 
definitely  personified  and  even  idealized.  This  may  be 
shown  by  the  use  made  of  the  name.  The  name  of  a 
thing  is  regarded  as  a  part  of  the  thing  itself.  Accord- 
ingly the  name  is  a  kind  of  handle  by  which  the  object 
may  be  controlled  and  compulsion  exercised. 
I  This  compulsion  appears  in  all  its  crudeness  in  the 
abuse  visited  upon  idols  and  fetishes  when  they  do  not 
grant  what  is  desired.  Tylor  recounts  stories  of  wor- 
shipers in  China  who  address  a  faithless  idol  thus: 
*' '  How  now,  you  dog  of  a  spirit,  we  have  given  you  an 
abode  in  a  splendid  temple,  we  gild  you  and  feed  you 
and  fumigate  you  with  incense,  and  yet  you  are  so 
ungrateful  that  you  won't  Hsten  to  our  prayers.'  So 
they  drag  him  in  the  dirt,  and  then  if  they  get  what 
they  want  they  clean  him  and  set  him  up  again  with 
apologies  and  promises  of  a  new  coat  of  gilding."^ 

The  use  of  blessings  and  curses  throws  light  upon 
the  nature  of  prayer  in  its  compelling  character. 
Westermarck  cites  many  instances  which  are  in  point. 
"A  poor  man  is  able  not  only  to  punish  the  unchar- 
itable by  means  of  his  curses,  but  to  reward  the  gen- 
erous giver  by  means  of  his  blessings."  "Among  the 
early  Christians  those  who  brought  gifts  for  the  poor 
were  specially  remembered  in  the  prayers  of  the 
1  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  p.  ii,  170. 
144 


PRAYER 

church,"  the  implication  being  that  these  prayers 
operated  as  blessings  of  a  definitely  magical  sort.  The 
words  of  a  holy  man,  a  magician  or  priest,  are  con- 
sidered more  efficacious  than  those  of  ordinary  mor- 
tals, although  certain  mystic  formulae  or  spells  are 
effective,  whoever  uses  them.  The  literal  physical 
influence  of  the  blessings  and  curses  can  scarcely  be 
overestimated.  "The  curse  of  Moses  was  said  to  lie 
on  mount  Ebal,  ready  to  descend  with  punishments 
whenever  there  was  occasion  for  it.  The  Arabs,  when 
being  cursed,  sometimes  lay  themselves  down  on  the 
ground  so  that  the  curse,  instead  of  hitting  them,  may 
fly  over  their  bodies.  According  to  Teutonic  notions, 
curses  alight,  settle,  cling,  they  take  flight,  and  turn 
home  like  birds  to  their  nests."  ^ 

When  words  come  to  be  written  they  still  retain 
their  magical  character.  The  written  prayer  has  the 
form  of  address  to  a  deity,  but  it  is  employed  at  least 
by  the  vast  mass  of  the  people  not  as  the  best  expres- 
sion of  their  desires  in  an  effort  to  reach  the  judgment 
or  will  of  a  deity,  but  as  a  powerful  magical  device 
for  necessitating  him  to  produce  the  required  results. 
The  prayer  wheel  is  one  of  the  commonest  contri- 
vances of  this  kind.  The  prayers,  written  on  parch- 
ment or  paper,  are  placed  inside  a  cylinder,  by  the 
rotation  of  which  the  sentences  are  repeated.  A  large 
part  of  the  Buddhist  prayers  consist  of  this  mechanical 
use  of  the  magical  formulae.  The  Jewish  Pharisees  in 
the  time  of  Jesus  apparently  used  quotations  from  the 
Law  in  a  similar  way,  and  the  rosary  of  Christendom  is 

1  E.  Westermarck,  The  Origin  and  Development  of  Moral  Ideas,  pp. 
57,  562. 

145 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  the  same  nature.  Tylor  regards  these  mechanical 
formulae  as  stiffened  reproductions  of  prayers  which 
were  at  first  "utterances  as  free  and  flexible  as  re- 
quests to  a  living  patriarch  or  chief."  But  while  it  is 
doubtless  true  that  writing  may  have  aided  in  petrify- 
ing the  verbal  forms,  yet  it  is  a  mistake  to  regard  the 
earlier  stages  of  religion  as  possessing  more  freedom 
and  spontaneity  than  later  ones.  In  any  case  the 
earlier  prayers  were  in  reality  charms  operating  magi- 
cally, and  lacking  for  the  most  part  the  elements  of 
conversation  between  persons  in  the  way  it  is  usually 
interpreted.  A  further  evidence  that  the  efficacy  of 
prayer  is  felt  to  emanate  from  the  form  as  much  or 
more  than  from  the  content  is  seen  in  the  use  of  ancient 
forms  of  speech.  The  older  usages  are  generally  held 
to  be  more  sacred,  and  accordingly  it  is  quite  gener- 
ally true  that  terms  other  than  those  of  common  use 
are  employed  in  all  the  ritual,  including  prayer.  The 
"Thee"  and  "Thou"  and  the  ending  "eth,"  for  ex- 
ample, occur  in  the  language  of  prayer  in  present  day 
Christianity  more  than  in  ordinary  speech. 

Two  things,  then,  seem  clear  with  reference  to  primi- 
tive prayer.  It  is  one  factor  in  the  larger  ceremonial 
activity,  and  it  shares  the  magical  character  of  the 
ceremonies.  In  more  advanced  religions  prayer  still 
occupies  a  relatively  secondary  and  dependent  place, 
that  is,  it  does  not  occur  to  any  great  extent  as  the 
expression  of  direct,  personal  need.  Neither  does  it 
become  highly  spiritualized.  Farnell,  in  a  most  sug- 
gestive and  comprehensive  sketch  of  the  evolution  of 
prayer,  states  that  he  has  "not  been  able  to  find  any 
example  o;f  a  savage  prayer  for  moral  or  spiritual 
'  146 


PRAYER 

blessings.*'  ^  Even  among  the  cultivated  Greeks  the 
public  prayers  clung  to  utilitarian  levels.  The  Athe- 
nian state  prayed  "for  the  health  and  safety  of  the 
people  of  the  Athenians,  their  wives  and  children  and 
all  in  the  country,"  and  the  formula  might  include 
a  prayer  for  the  prosperity  of  their  allies,  such  as 
Milesians  or  Plateaus.  But  we  have  no  indications 
that  the  blessings  prayed  for  included  others  besides 
the  material  ones.  Private  prayer  among  the  Greeks 
did  indeed  include  higher  interests.  Especially  was 
this  true  of  the  philosophers,  Socrates  and  Plato,  but 
in  the  popular  mind  the  more  immediate  desires  ruled 
the  religious  utterances.  In  a  striking  degree  also  the 
magical  character  of  prayer  persists  side  by  side  with 
more  ideal  elements.  To  the  purest  forms  of  prayer 
is  often  attributed  the  power  of  the  magic  spell.  *'A 
real  spell  can  accompany  a  real  prayer,  and  the  text 
of  the  prayer  itself  becomes  a  most  potent  charm." 
In  the  Zarathustrian  system,  where  many  exalted 
prayers  are  found,  the  utterances  are  yet  felt  to  pos- 
sess peculiar  power  beyond  the  meaning  conveyed  or 
the  attitude  induced.  They  are  used  as  charms,  puri- 
fying and  wonder-working.  In  the  same  waj^  the 
creeds  of  Christendom  and  the  paternoster  are  often 
employed  not  for  their  spiritual  content  but  for  some 
mysterious  influence  supposed  to  attach  to  their  repe- 
tition. The  most  spiritual  and  spontaneous  prayers 
usually  open  and  close  with  references  to  the  name  of 
the  deity,  which  interestingly  perpetuates  the  form  at 
least  of  superstitious  practices.  The  basis  of  these 
superstitions  lies  in  the  animism  and  demonology  of 

1  L.  R.  Farnell,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  pp.  183,  200. 

147 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

primitive  religion.  As  these  give  way  before  the  scien- 
tific conception  of  nature,  the  magical  element  in 
prayer  is  gradually  eliminated,  and  prayer  becomes 
^^  increasingly   meditation    and    communion.     It    pre- 

serves more  or  less  clearly  the  interlocutory,  conver- 
sational form,  which  in  a  real  sense  is  the  inevitable 
nature  of  any  thinking  whatsoever. 


/ 
/■ 


CHAPTER  IX 

MYTHOLOGY 

Scarcely  another  subject  has  received  more  di- 
verse treatment  from  the  students  of  primitive  reli- 
gion than  mythology.  Wundt  makes  myth  primary. 
**It  includes  science  and  religion:  it  regulates  domes- 
tic custom  and  public  life."  ^  Robertson  Smith,  on 
the  other  hand,  says  "mythology  was  no  essential 
part  of  ancient  religion."  ^  Others  who  attach  impor- 
tance to  mythology  give  various  explanations  of  its 
nature.  Max  Miiller  and  D.  G.  Brinton  make  much  of 
the  theory  that  myth-building  is  due  to  the  influence 
of  language.  The  direction  of  the  poetic  personifying 
fancy  of  primitive  man  may  be  determined  by  a  word 
rightly  or  wrongly  understood.  For  example,  among 
the  Algonquin  Indians  the  words  meaning  Dawn  and 
Giant  Rabbit  being  similar,  occasioned  the  myth  of 
light  to  degenerate  into  an  animal  fable.  ^  Spencer, 
Frazer,  and  Tylor  agree  in  the  anthropomorphizing 
character  of  mythology :  but  they  apply  this  principle 
in  different  ways.  For  Spencer,  myths  are  distorted 
stories  of  remote  ancestors.  Frazer  regards  them  as 
attempts  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  nature  and  the 
origin  of  man.  "Mythology  is  primitive  man's  sci- 
ence and  philosophy."  Tylor  classifies  mj^ths  accord- 
ing as  they  are  concerned  with  explanation,  descrip- 

^  W.  Wundt,  Ethics,  Facts  of  the  Moral  Life,  p.  55. 
2  W.  R.  Smith,  Religion  of  the  Semites,  p.  17. 
2  D.  G.  Brinton,  American  Hero-Myths,  p.  27. 

149 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tion,  legend,  metaphor,  or  instruction.  All  of  these 
treatments  seem  to  lack  unity  and  reality.  They  are 
more  satisfying  in  citation  of  fact  than  in  interpre- 
tation. They  fail  to  relate  mythology  to  other  fea- 
tures of  primitive  life  in  an  organic  and  adequate  way. 
It  remains  detached  and  separate,  whether  it  is  made 
the  antecedent  of  custom  or  something  quite  irrele- 
vant. This  attitude  is  expressed  in  the  following 
characteristic  passage:  "Myths  are  not  like  psalms  or 
hymns,  lyrical  expressions  of  religious  emotion:  they 
are  not  like  creeds  or  dogmas,  statements  of  things 
which  must  be  believed:  they  are  narratives.  They 
are  not  history,  they  are  tales  told  about  gods  and 
heroes,  and  they  all  have  two  characteristics:  on  the 
one  hand  they  are  to  us  obviously  or  demonstrably 
untrue  and  often  irrational:  on  the  other  hand  they 
were  to  their  first  audience  so  reasonable  as  to  appear 
truths  which  were  self-evident."  ^  What  is  needed  is 
some  principle  which  will  resolve  this  confusion  and 
uncertainty  and  discover  the  vital  relation  between 
myths  and  other  forms  of  primitive  experience. 

It  is  important  first  to  determine  how  the  word 
mythology  shall  be  used.  It  is  often  employed  as  a 
general  designation  for  all  types  of  folk-lore,  legends, 
traditions,  tales,  stories,  and  narratives.  In  order  to 
avoid  confusion  mythology  will  be  used  here  as  equi- 
valent to  cult-lore  as  contrasted  with  the  less  sacred 
legendary  tales.  This  is  the  distinction  which  Mr. 
Frank  H.  Gushing  found  among  the  Zufii  Indians.^ 

*  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  p.  250. 

*  Eleventh  Annual  Report  of  American  Bureau  of  Ethnology,  1889-90, 
p.  369. 

150 


MYTHOLOGY 

Their  cult-lore  is  intimately  bound  up  with  their  most 
sacred  ceremonials  and  partakes  of  the  ceremonial 
sanctity.  The  cult-lore  consists  of  the  dramatic 
stories  of  creation  and  other  supreme  interests.  In 
their  ritual  observances  the  events  of  these  stories  are 
not  merely  represented  but  are  actually  reproduced. 
The  actors  do  more  than  impersonate  the  gods.  They 
are  the  gods,  and  they  take  on  these  characters  as  easily 
and  completely  as  children  transform  themselves  into 
their  play  people.  Other  stories,  not  thus  vitally  inter- 
woven with  the  ceremonials,  such  as  legends  and 
mythic  tales,  may  be  classed  as  folk-lore.  There  are 
several  distinguishing  marks  in  the  mythology  proper, 
or  cult-lore.  All  these  marks  are  evidences  of  mysteri- 
ous sacredness.  The  cult-myths  are  not  spoken  of  or 
repeated  on  ordinary  occasions.  An  Iowa  Indian,  when 
asked  about  the  traditions  of  his  tribe,  said,  "These 
are  sacred  things  and  I  do  not  like  to  speak  about 
them,  as  it  is  not  our  custom  to  do  so  except  when  we 
make  a  feast  and  collect  the  people  and  use  the  sacred 
pipe."  ^  When  the  myth  proper  is  told  it  is  preceded 
by  fasting  and  prayer.  It  is  usually  told  in  an  archaic 
or  other  strange  language.  In  some  tribes  this  cult- 
lore  is  preserved  by  secret  societies  which  are  the 
recognized  repositories  of  the  sacred  possessions  of  the 
group.  ^  During  the  performance  of  the  ceremonials 
these  myths  are  in  the  minds  of  the  actors,  and  it  is 
part  of  the  initiation  of  the  novice  to  hear  and  to  learn 
them  with  all  due  reverence  and  secrecy.    It  is  the 

^  Dorsey  in  Eleventh  Annual  Report  of  American  Bureau  of  Ethnology, 
1889-90,  p.  430. 

*  Webster,  Primitive  Secret  Societies. 

151 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

mythology  which  gives  psychological  unity  to  the 
ceremonial.  It  furnishes  the  imaginative  setting 
through  which  the  dramatic  illusion  and  emotional 
rapport  become  complete.  The  true  myth  is  highly 
socialized.  In  its  vivid  imagery  the  whole  drama  of 
the  tribe  is  reenacted.  The  narratives,  songs,  and 
prayers  in  which  it  is  embodied  are  surcharged  with 
the  full  measure  of  sanctity  which  belongs  to  the 
motor,  pictorial,  and  decorative  factors  of  the  sacred 
ritual.  On  this  account  the  mythology  is  just  as  genu- 
ine and  real  a  part  of  primitive  religion  as  is  anything 
else.  It  carries  the  social  significance  and  ideal  value 
which  constitute  the  religious  character  of  any  activ- 
ity. 

The  importance  and  significance  of  mythology  may 
be  further  appreciated  by  considering  its  relation  to 
the  motor  side  of  the  ceremonials.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  suppose  that  the  motor  activities  of  the  rituals  were 
prior  in  time  to  any  ideational  processes.  Neither  is  it 
defensible  to  hold  that  the  mental  images  of  the  myth 
occurred  independently  and  previous  to  concrete  re- 
actions. Both  belong  in  some  degree  to  all  human 
experience.  Probably  even  the  higher  animals  possess 
rudimentary  images  or  recepts.  The  dog  certainly  dis- 
tinguishes and  recognizes  objects,  and  displays  appro- 
priate reactions  of  a  selective  and  determining  kind. 
When  remote  from  the  scene  of  the  chase,  the  char- 
acteristic signal  or  the  sight  of  his  master  in  hunting 
costume  appears  to  be  a  sufficient  cue  to  reinstate  a 
series  of  reactions  which  it  is  reasonable  to  believe  are 
associated  with  concrete  images.  In  such  instances 
the  physical  and  the  psychical  are  correlative  phases 

152 


MYTHOLOGY 

of  the  whole  activity.  With  reference  to  human  con- 
duct of  a  selective  sort  this  is  certainly  the  case.  We 
have  seen  that  the  ceremonials  are  reproductions  of 
occupational  and  social  activities  and  turn  upon  a 
variety  of  relations  of  the  group  to  its  environment. 
There  are  in  these  ceremonials  trains  of  imagery  or- 
ganically involved  with  the  acts  of  the  ritual.  Such 
images  get  expression  and  further  definition  in  speech : 
in  the  word-symbols  of  the  narratives.  The  real  basis 
or  cause  of  such  images  and  such  speech  symbols  is  not 
the  mimetic  action  of  the  dance.  It  rather  springs  up 
with  the  dance  from  the  original  occupation  or  social 
activity  itself.  The  primary  reactions  sprang  from 
impulse  and  desire.  In  establishing  these  reactions  or 
habits,  psychical  as  well  as  physical  effects  were  pro- 
duced: that  is,  images  flowed  through  the  mind  while 
the  body  experienced  the  movements  of  the  chase  or 
of  the  struggle  with  the  enemy.  It  is  just  because  man 
has  an  elaborate  and  sensitive  central  nervous  system 
to  register  his  experience  that  he  is  capable  of  sensory 
and  memory  images.  Man  is  a  psycho-physical  unity, 
every  brain  state  involving  some  corresponding  men- 
tal state.  Ideo-motor  activity  is  the  type.  The  idea 
cannot  be  present  without  at  least  incipient  action,  and 
the  action  cannot  occur,  certainly  not  in  situations 
where  there  is  inhibition  and  obstruction,  without 
ideation.  The  myths  of  the  ceremonials  are  verbal  ex- 
pressions which  disclose  the  ideational  processes  of  the 
actors,  just  as  their  bodily  movements  in  pantomime 
express  the  same  meaning.  Therefore,  both  the  bodily 
movements  and  the  verbal  expressions  of  the  ceremo- 
nial on  the  one  side,  and  the  corresponding  mental 

153 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

imagery  on  the  other,  are  to  be  understood  as  simulta- 
neous and  mutually  determined  effects  of  the  underly- 
ing biological  impulsive  actions.  We  have  seen  that 
the  kind  of  bodily  ceremonial  acts  which  a  people 
develops  depends  upon  the  experiences  they  have  in 
getting  their  food,  fighting  enemies,  and  maintaining 
living  relations  among  themselves.  Their  language 
and  literature  are  determined  in  the  same  way  and  by 
the  same  events,  so  that  the  acts  and  the  words  corre- 
spond. Both  record  the  same  story  and,  in  fact,  are  the 
opposite  pages  of  the  same  leaf  of  the  book  of  man's 
life.  It  is  not  strange  therefore  that  some  authors, 
having  noticed  this  correspondence  of  the  myth  and 
the  ritual,  have  concluded  that  the  ritual  is  the  drama- 
tization of  the  myth:  or,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
myth  is  the  explanation  of  the  previously  existing 
ritual.  Doubtless  they  do  interact  and  support  each 
other,  yet  the  ground  of  both  is  deeper  and  is  to  be 
found  in  those  activities  and  strivings  arising  from  the 
most  elemental  needs.  Self-preservation,  and,  with  less 
consciousness,  race-preservation  are  the  urgent  im- 
pulses. Out  of  these  spring  the  manifold  social  institu- 
tions and  ideals,  among  which  are  the  cults  and  cult- 
lore  of  primitive  religion.  We  have  seen  how  the  food 
and  the  socialized  sex  interests  mould  the  cults.  It  re- 
mains to  show  how  they  operate  in  the  mythical  lore. 
The  activities  and  concurrent  interests  of  a  group 
necessarily  centre  in  its  adjustment  to  the  environ- 
ment. The  topography  of  the  country  inhabited,  the 
fauna  and  the  flora,  and  the  human  agents  in  the 
drama  are  of  capital  importance.  The  myths  deal 
chiefly  with  these  factors,  and  are  narratives  descrip- 

154 


MYTHOLOGY 

live  of  the  typical  experiences  of  the  tribe  attributed 
to  ancestral  beings.  Some  illustrations  of  this  ten- 
dency will  be  given.  Spencer  and  Gillen,  in  presenting 
the  traditions  of  the  Udnirringita  or  Witchetty  Grub 
people  of  Australia,  state  that  they  occupy  a  tract  of 
country  about  one  hundred  square  miles  in  extent, 
through  the  centre  of  which  runs  a  range  of  hills, 
often  lofty  and  broken  by  gaps  or  gorges.  There  are 
about  forty  individuals  in  this  totem  group,  the  lar- 
gest local  group  known  to  these  authors.  At  various 
places  throughout  this  district  Udnirringita  people 
originated  in  the  Alcheringa  (the  far  past)  from  their 
animal  ancestors,  and  these  Alcheringa  people  depos- 
ited Churinga  (sacred  stones  or  sticks)  at  various  spots 
during  the  course  of  their  wanderings.  Just  within  the 
entrance  to  one  of  the  gorges,  "at  a  spot  marked  now 
by  a  large  stone,  close  to  which  stands  the  trunk  of  an 
old  and  long  since  dead  gum  tree,  the  great  Alcheringa 
leader  of  the  Witchetties  who  was  named  Intwailiuka 
sprang  into  existence.  .  .  .  The  stone  has  since  been  asso- 
ciated with  the  spirit  not  only  of  the  dead  Intwailiuka 
but  also  with  one  or  two  men  who  have  been  regarded 
as  his  successive  reincarnations,  the  last  of  whom  was 
the  father  of  the  present  Alatunja  (head  man)  of  the 
group.  A  number  of  smaller  stones  close  by  represent 
men  w^ho  sat  there  with  him."  ^  Near  this  place  is  the 
spot  where  Intwailiuka  stood  and  threw  numbers  of 
eggs  of  the  grub  up  the  face  of  the  rock  just  as  is  now 
done  during  the  Intichiuma  ceremony,  the  object  of 
which  is  to  increase  the  number  of  the  totem  animal. 
Thus  these  traditions  relate  the  life  of  these  ancestors 

^  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp.  424  f. 

155 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

who  lived  much  as  do  the  present  members  of  the 
group.  During  the  ceremonies  which  were  originated 
by  the  Alcheringa  naen  these  traditions  are  rehearsed, 
and  are  not  only  a  means  of  instructing  novices  but  of 
heightening  the  emotional  value  for  all  participants. 

Howitt  inclines  to  attach  some  historical  significance 
to  such  traditions.  "It  seems  to  me,"  he  says,  "that 
these  legends  may  be  taken  to  be  not  merely  mythical, 
-but  rather  dim  records  of  former  events,  such  as  the 
wanderings  of  the  early  Australians,  dressed  in  a  myth- 
ical garb  and  handed  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, from  father  to  son,  in  the  sacred  ceremonies."  ^ 
Mr.  Frank  H.  Gushing  found  the  same  indications  of 
early  historical  conditions  and  events  in  the  mythology 
of  the  Zuiii  Indians.  "That  thus  the  Zunis  are  actu- 
ally descendants  of  two  or  more  peoples,  and  the  heirs 
of  two  cultures,  at  least,  is  well  shown  in  their  legends 
of  ruins  and  of  olden  times,  and  especially  in  these 
myths  of  creation  and  migration  as  interpreted  by 
archseologic  and  ethnographic  research."  ^  Mr.  Gush- 
ing finds  evidences  of  two  parental  stocks  of  the  Zunis. 
One  ranged  the  plains  north  of  the  arid  mountain 
region  of  Utah  and  Golorado.  To  this  aboriginal  stock 
was  added  the  intrusive  western  branch.  From  the 
myths  the  latter  appears  to  have  been  more  vigorous, 
though  fewer  in  numbers,  and  to  have  contributed  to 
the  united  people  their  most  distinguishing  traits. 
For  example,  while  other  Pueblo  Indians  in  their 
stories  located  their  ancestral  home  in  the  north,  the 

^  A.  W.  Howitt,  Native  Tribes  of  South-East  Australia,  p.  482. 
^  Thirteenth  Annual  Report  of  the  American  Bureau  of  Ethnology,  p. 
342. 

156 


MYTHOLOGY 

Zimis  placed  theirs  in  the  west,  whence  they  them- 
selves had  migrated.  The  west  was  to  them  "the  place 
where  the  human  family  originated,  where  the  ances- 
tral gods  chiefly  dwell,  and  whither  after  death  souls 
of  men  are  supposed  to  return  anon."  Many  other 
features  of  this  elaborate  mythology  emphasize  the 
way  in  which  geography  and  the  topography  of  the 
country  become  prominent  in  the  ceremonials  just  as 
they  are  important  factors  in  the  life  history  of  the 
group.  Animals  and  plants  are  still  more  prominent 
in  the  tribal  observances  than  are  the  cosmic  or  geo- 
graphic factors.  The  interest  in  these  living  forms  is 
more  immediate.  Attention  is  fixed  upon  them  by  the 
food  process.  Compared  with  objects  of  food  all  other 
things  have  an  indirect  and  secondary  interest.  On 
this  account  totemism  takes  us  into  the  inner  sphere 
of  primitive  interests.  The  animal,  plant,  or  fruit  is  so 
closely  connected  with  the  dominant  biological  func- 
tions that  it  has  the  most  immediate  hold  upon  the 
mind.  The  habits  of  animals,  their  mysterious  powers, 
and  experiences  in  hunting  them  form  constant  themes 
of  conversation,  song,  and  story. 

Even  the  great  prominence  of  human  heroes  in  the 
traditions  is  derived  from  the  fact  that  these  individu- 
als have  been  specially  successful  in  exploits  with  ani- 
mals, or  in  repulsing  enemies  who  threatened  the  com- 
mon welfare.  The  achievements  w^hich  magnify  a  man 
in  the  eyes  of  his  fellows  are  those  which  make  him  a 
mighty  hunter  or  a  man  of  valor.  He  is  a  means  to  an 
end.  He  is  a  protector,  a  provider,  a  leader:  and  his 
exploits  eventuate  in  better  food  supply  and  in  greater 
comfort  for  the  group.    Self-preservation  is  then  the 

157 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

focal  point  of  interest,  and  the  objects  and  agencies 
involved  with  it  share  this  interest.  The  psychical 
world  of  the  savage  is  organized  on  this  basis  in  con- 
centric circles.  He  himself  and  his  group  are  at  the 
centre.  The  things  which  serve  his  needs  fall  into 
a  well-defined  psychical  perspective.  Many  objects 
which  the  interest  of  civilized  man  defines  and  illu- 
minates do  not  appear  conspicuously  in  the  universe 
of  the  less  developed  mind.  It  is  through  failure  to 
recognize  this  fact  that  undue  importance  has  often 
been  assigned  to  natural  objects  like  sun,  moon,  stars, 
mountains,  in  the  sentiment  of  primitive  folk. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  true  that  the  attention  is 
increasingly  riveted  on  the  means.  The  leader  in  bat- 
tle or  in  the  hunt  is  found  to  be  the  determining 
factor.  His  success,  his  safety,  is  identified  with  that 
of  the  members  of  the  tribe.  He  becomes  individual- 
ized more  than  others,  and  the  variety,  power,  and 
stimulus  of  his  deeds  are  perhaps  the  most  effective 
aids  to  reflection  and  to  the  development  of  con- 
sciousness of  personality.  This  consciousness,  how- 
ever, remains  vague,  inchoate,  and  shifting,  up  to  very 
modern  times.  Before  the  romanticizing,  democrat- 
izing era  of  recent  centuries  the  sense  of  personality 
had  little  stability  and  little  organized  content.  It  is 
yet  relatively  feeble  for  the  masses.  But  the  centres 
from  which  it  has  been  developed  have  been  the  chiefs, 
kings,  warriors,  heroes,  and  saviours  of  the  social  group. 
Naturally,  therefore,  mythology  has  given  an  increas- 
ing place  to  divine  men,  while  attention  has  been 
somewhat  withdrawn  from  the  divine  animals  and 
plants.    Self-preservation  gradually  magnifies  human 

158 


MYTHOLOGY 

agencies  as  the  means  of  life,  and  accordingly  in  the 
later  periods  where  social  organizations  are  closer  and 
more  powerful,  mythology  turns  more  and  more  about 
human  characters.  This  transition  in  interest  is 
shown  in  the  traditions  concerning  the  creation  of  men 
from  animal  ancestors,  and  also  in  the  transformation 
of  the  deities  from  animal  to  anthropomorphic  gods. 
The  development  of  the  bull-god  among  the  Greeks 
shows  the  transition.  *'Dionysos  Dendrites  is  easy  to 
realize:  he  is  but  a  step  back  from  the  familiar,  canon- 
ical Vine-god.  The  Bull-god  Dionysus  is  harder  to 
accept  because  we  have  lost  the  primitive  habit  of 
thinking  from  which  it  sprang.  The  Greeks  themselves 
suffered  the  like  inconvenience.  They  rapidly  ad- 
vanced to  so  complete  an  anthropomorphism  that  in 
Periclean  Athens  the  dogma  of  the  Bull-incarnation 
was,  we  cannot  doubt,  a  stumbling  block,  a  faith  as 
far  as  possible  put  out  of  sight."  *  Primitive  ceremo- 
nials, w^ith  their  twofold  aspect  of  cult  and  tradition, 
are  thus  determined  in  their  origin  and  development 
by  human  needs  and  by  the  habits  and  interests  which 
are  incident  to  their  satisfaction. 

From  this  general  point  of  view  light  is  thrown  on 
many  questions  concerning  mythology.  The  myth 
cannot  be  regarded  as  peculiarly  the  product  of  the 
personifying  activity  of  the  mind.  All  primitive  man's 
experiences  are  anthropomorphic  so  far  as  they  are 
conscious  at  all.  That  is,  his  experiences  are  suffused 
with  the  warmth  and  intimacy  of  his  own  interests 
and  emotions.  But  the  myth  is  just  one  expression  of 
the  total  drama  of  his  life.  It  is  the  speech  expression. 

^  Jane  E.  Harrison,  Prolegomena  to  the  Study  of  Greek  Religion,  p.  432. 

159 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Other  coordinate,  simultaneous  expressions  of  the 
underlying  vital  impulses  are  the  pictorial,  decorative, 
and  motor  forms.  These  involve  personification  as 
much  as  does  the  myth.  Language  is  doubtless  a  more 
adequate  instrument  for  the  complex  and  subtler  im- 
agery, and  it  may  therefore  well  be  the  most  sat- 
isfactory means  of  registering  the  elaborations  and 
refinements  of  the  ceremonial  symbolism.  But  this 
does  not  prove  that  the  myths  are  in  reality  more 
anthropomorphic  than  the  costume  and  the  dance. 

With  the  advance  of  a  group  under  contact  with 
other  peoples  or  by  the  working  of  inherent  forces, 
changes  occur  in  both  the  ritual  and  the  myths,  and 
these  changes  are  apparently  registered  in  the  myth 
earlier  and  more  fully  than  in  the  cult.  This  may  be 
attributed  to  the  more  flexible  character  of  speech.  It 
is  easier  to  fit  a  new  story  to  the  old  ceremony  than 
to  create  a  new  ceremony  for  an  old  story  or  even  to 
modify  the  ceremony.  On  this  account  the  myth  is 
more  variable  than  the  ritual.  In  the  decay  of  tribal 
custom  the  myth  may  be  corrupted  and  lost  while  the 
ritual  remains  intact.  This  has  been  observed  among 
the  Todas.  "The  present  state  of  the  Toda  religion 
seems  to  be  one  in  which  ritual  has  persisted  while  the 
beliefs  at  the  bottom  of  the  ritual  have  largely  disap- 
peared." ^  On  the  other  hand,  the  myths  may  take  on 
idealized  forms  while  accompanied  by  essentially  the 
same  ritual  observance. 

The  myths  of  primitive  religion  are,  however,  far 
from  possessing  the  degree  of  rationality  which  many 
writers  impute  to  them.   For  example,  it  is  a  charac- 

1  W.  H.  R.  Rivers,  The  Todas,  p.  452. 
160 


MYTHOLOGY 

teristic  statement  that  the  myths  are  setiological,  that 
is,  concerned  with  the  causes  of  natural  and  social 
phenomena.  But  it  is  a  gratuitous  assumption  that 
primitive  man  is  very  curious  to  obtain  rational  ex- 
planations of  his  experience.  On  the  contrary,  he  is 
notoriously  content  to  accept  the  traditional  narra- 
tives without  question.  He  accepts  all  sorts  of  jum- 
bled imagery  with  reference  to  the  most  vital  things, 
such  as  disease  or  the  growth  of  crops.  These  trains  of 
imagery  have  grown  up  under  associations  of  ideas 
quite  regardless  of  rational  explanations.  Chance 
associations  have  given  prominent  place  to  entirely 
incidental  features,  as  has  been  shown  in  the  treat- 
ment of  imitative  and  sympathetic  magic.  These  fan- 
tastic stories  do  indeed  move  within  the  circuit  of 
the  tribal  interests,  and  relate  to  the  social  activities 
and  organizations,  but  interest  in  explanation  satisfies 
itself  with  trains  of  vivid  imagery  rather  than  with 
actual  facts  or  real  relations.  Such  narratives  are  the 
work  of  memory  and  crude  fancy.  The  mind  at  that 
stage  prefers  vividness  to  consistency.  It  is  dramatic 
rather  than  scientific.  An  illustration  of  this  tendency 
to  mistake  sequence  of  images  for  reasonableness  is 
seen  in  the  quotation  cited  above,  in  which  it  is  said 
the  mvths  "were  to  their  first  audience  so  reasonable 
as  to  appear  truths  which  were  self-evident."  Now 
"reasonableness"  of  the  kind  with  which  "self-evi- 
dent truths"  are  connected  is  not  the  possession  nor 
the  concern  of  primitive  people.  It  would  be  true 
to  say  the  myths  were  so  familiar  and  so  weighted 
down  with  tribal  usage  and  sanction  that  there  was  no 
disposition  to  question  them.   The  principle  of  habit 

161 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

applies  to  trains  of  imagery  as  definitely  as  it  does  to 
bodily  movements.  It  is  not  the  reasonableness  of  the 
habitual  activity  which  makes  it  powerful  and  con- 
trolling, but  just  the  fact  that  it  is  habitual.  The 
myths  sprang  up  in  much  the  same  unconscious  way 
as  did  the  customs,  and  the  non-rational  character  of 
both  sets  of  phenomena  is  one  of  their  most  striking 
features.  The  technique  of  the  dance  becomes  close 
knit  and  automatic,  so  that  when  started  the  series  of 
acts  runs  off  promptly.  In  the  same  way,  tales,  chants, 
songs,  and  prayers  grow  up  and  transmit  themselves 
without  intent  or  criticism. 

Not  only  in  reference  to  their  degree  of  reasonable- 
ness, but  with  respect  to  their  space  and  time  concepts, 
the  myths  have  been  taken  in  a  too  large  and  sophis- 
ticated sense.  Students  have  apparently  lacked  the 
power  of  imagination  to  move  back  from  the  vast  uni- 
verse as  it  is  known  to-day  to  the  small  contracted 
world  of  early  man.  For  the  Australians,  as  for  the 
early  Hebrews,  the  earth  is  flat,  and  the  sky  is  a  hard 
vault  close  down  over  it.  Some  Australian  legends 
reflect  the  belief  that  the  sky  rests  on  poles  placed  on 
the  mountains.  These  poles  at  times  become  rotten 
and  have  to  be  replaced.  Other  legends  reflect  the 
belief  that  high  trees  grow  through  the  sky,  on  the 
other  side  of  which  is  another  country  like  this.  By 
means  of  these  trees  the  people  of  the  past  climbed  up 
through  the  sky  to  gather  manna.  In  other  legends 
people  ascended  above  the  sky  upon  the  whirlwind. 
The  sun  is  a  woman.  The  Dieri  have  a  legend  that  the 
sun  sets  in  a  hole  twenty-five  miles  from  Killalpanina, 
towards  Lake  Eyre,  called  the  "Hole  of  the  sun."  In 

162 


MYTHOLOGY 

the  same  way  the  moon  and  the  stars  are  people  who 
through  some  adventure  or  accident  came  to  live  in 
the  sky  and  to  go  about  as  they  do  now.  The  seasons 
are  reckoned  by  the  blossoming  of  the  trees,  and  the 
summer  is  also  known  as  "the  time  when  the  ground 
burns  the  feet."  ^  Spencer  and  Gillen  say  that  the  na- 
tives have  no  "  idea  of  the  distance  away  of  the  sun,  be- 
lieving it  to  be  close  to  the  earth."  "The  Magellanic 
clouds  they  regard  as  endowed  with  Arungquiltha 
(evil  spirit),  and  believe  that  they  sometimes  come 
down  to  earth  and  choke  men  and  women  while  they 
are  asleep.  Mushrooms  and  toadstools  they  wull  not 
eat,  believing  them  to  be  fallen  stars  and  endowed 
with  Arungquiltha."  ^  This  is  in  keeping  with  the 
concreteness  and  nearness  of  all  phases  of  belief.  It  is 
the  animals  of  every-day  experience  which  are  sacred. 
It  is  the  pipe  of  the  Indian,  the  eagle  feather,  the  rain, 
or  the  maize  which  engages  his  attention  in  the  cere- 
monials. In  the  myths  these  things  are  magnified  and 
endow^ed  with  greater  power  than  they  ordinarily  pos- 
sess, but  the  ability  to  conceive  things  in  heroic  terms 
is  decidedly  limited.  When  one  reads  a  legend  about 
the  sky  being  lifted  up  by  the  magpie,  it  should  be 
remembered  that  a  very  small  sky  is  referred  to  and 
not  the  vastness  which  we  know. 

Everything  known  about  the  primitive  mind  sup- 
ports the  inference  that  to  it  there  is  little  appreciation 
of  cosmic  distances  or  forces.  The  myths  cannot  rise 
far  above  the  original  patterns  set  by  the  life  interests, 
nor  transcend  greatly  the  proportions  of  the  narrow 

^  A.  W.  Howitt,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Soutk-East  Australia,  pp.  426  S, 
^  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  566. 

163 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

sphere  of  practical  life.  Spencer  and  Gillen  relate  how 
wonderful  the  Australians  are  in  their  perception  of 
tracks.  They  recognize  the  tracks  of  every  beast  and 
bird  and  of  particular  men  and  women.  They  can  fol- 
low those  which  would  be  indistinguishable  to  white 
men.  But  in  the  more  abstract  concepts  of  number 
and  time  they  display  remarkable  limitations.  "Whilst 
in  matters  such  as  tracking,  which  are  concerned  with 
their  every-day  life,  and  upon  efficiency  in  which  they 
actually  depend  for  their  livelihood,  the  natives  show 
conspicuous  ability,  there  are  other  directions  in  which 
they  are  as  conspicuously  deficient.  This  is  perhaps 
shown  most  clearly  in  the  matter  of  counting.  At 
Alice  Springs  they  occasionally  count,  sometimes  using 
their  fingers  in  doing  so,  up  to  five,  but  frequently 
anything  beyond  four  is  indicated  by  the  word  okuira, 
meaning  much  or  great.  .  .  .  Their  mental  powers  are 
simply  developed  along  the  lines  which  are  of  service 
to  them  in  their  daily  life."  ^  Rivers  made  investi- 
gations among  the  natives  of  the  Torres  Straits,  and 
became  convinced  that  attention  given  predominantly 
to  objects  of  sense,  as  is  characteristic  of  savages,  is 
a  distinct  hindrance  to  intellectual  development.^ 
Ranke  found  in  his  own  experience  in  South  America 
that  on  account  of  having  constantly  to  attend  to 
details,  he  was  unable  to  give  attention  to  the  more 
serious  problems  of  life.  In  view  of  such  evidence 
it  is  obviously  misleading  to  attribute  to  primitive 
myths    any  large    concepts    or    generalizations.     To 

1  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  pp.  25,  26. 

2  W.  H.  R.  Rivers,  Anthropological  Expedition  to  Torres  Straits,  vol.  ii, 
pp.  41,  45. 

164 


MYTHOLOGY 

people  for  whom  anything  beyond  four  or  five  is  nu- 
merically "great"  there  cannot  be  for  modern  thought 
any  very  imposing  idea  of  distance  in  space  or  of  time 
past  or  future.  Much  less  could  they  possess  notions 
of  a  deity  of  vast  power  or  high  moral  excellence. 

Probably  one  reason  primitive  religion  has  been  so 
often  interpreted  in  too  large  and  ideal  a  way  is  the 
intense  emotional  excitement  which  it  produces.  The 
actors  in  the  ceremonials  exhibit  every  mark  of  the 
greatest  awe,  reverence,  and  affection.  We  have  seen 
how  the  simple  black  fellows  of  Australia  approach 
the  repositories  of  their  sacred  objects  with  solemnity 
and  ritual  caution:  how  they  are  moved  to  tears  as 
they  handle  the  precious  sticks  and  stones  with  which 
their  ancestors  are  associated.  They  repeat  in  low 
whispers  the  story  of  each  relic  and  of  the  persons  to 
whom  it  has  belonged.  i\ll  the  powers  of  suggestion  — 
a  sacred  place,  special  dress  and  decorations,  an  at- 
mosphere of  profound  mystery  and  expectation  —  are 
employed.  The  imagery  is  concrete  and  conduces  to 
intense  social  sympathy.  Under  such  influences  emo- 
tional reactions  reach  the  stage  of  hypnotism  and  the 
trance  state.  This  is  true  among  the  American  Ne- 
groes and  Indians  at  the  present  time.^  Such  emo- 
tionalism is  quite  independent  of  any  particular  intel- 
lectual content,  except  the  simplest  kind  of  familiar 
symbols  or  images.  Great  emotion  is  not  evidence  of 
the  presence  of  great  ideas  among  civilized  people, 
much  less  among  savages.  On  the  contrary,  intense 
feeling  arises  most  easily  and  gains  most  demonstra- 
tive expression  where  the  higher  intellectual  processes, 

^  F.  M.  Davenport,  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals,  p.  50. 

165 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

such  as  abstraction  and  discursive  reasoning,  are  ab- 
sent or  in  abeyance.    An  instinctive  sense  of  awe  at- 
tends the  contemplation  of  anything  which  passes  the 
limits  of  our  calculation,  particularly  if  in  some  way 
there  is  at  the  same  time  some  suggestive  sensuous 
content.  Beyond  the  number  four  for  the  Australian, 
and  a  million,  or  whatever  the  point  may  be  where 
civilized  man  loses  definite  imagery,  there  is  only  a 
confused  chaotic  blur  which  both  call  "great"  and 
with  reference  to  which  the  same  emotion  of  awe  ap- 
pears.   In  both  cases  this  sense  of  mystery  may  be 
focused   in  a  definite   image  or  object  of   sensation, 
such  as  the  sacred  stick  of  the  savage  or  the  relic  of  the 
mediaeval  Christian.  But  the  fact  that  the  savage  and 
the  Christian  experience  comparable  emotional  states, 
so  far  as  the  observer  can  detect,  is  no  proof  that  the 
range  and  ideality  of  the  symbols  employed  in  their 
respective  traditions  have  any  corresponding  rational 
content.  Taking  the  experience  of  each  in  its  entirety, 
they  are  remote  from  one  another:  and  in  strict  analy- 
sis the  emotions  of  the  two  are  as  different  as  are  the 
total  worlds  of  their  imagination. 

Mythology  proper,  then,  is  that  body  of  traditions 
among  a  given  people  which  is  most  closely  associated 
with  their  ceremonials.  Such  mythology  moves  quite 
at  the  level  of  associative  trains  of  imagery  and  with- 
out rationalized  form,  yet  furnishes  the  psychological 
milieu  within  which  the  dramatic  action  lies.  It  fur- 
nishes literary  expression  of  the  background  or  atmo- 
sphere of  the  dance  and  pantomime.  Above  or  outside 
this  central  body  of  tradition  there  were  many  legends 
and  stories  more  or  less  vitally  held  by  each  group. 

166 


MYTHOLOGY 

Among  these  were  the  myths  from  neighboring  tribes, 
which  might  in  time  come  to  be  domesticated.  Some- 
times the  rituals  would  also  be  adopted.  Such  syncre- 
tism is  common  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  and  to 
some  extent  among  the  North  American  Indians  and 
other  still  lower  peoples.  But  the  similarity  in  the 
myths  of  the  different  races  is  more  directly  due  to  the 
similar  habits  and  customs  arising  in  experience  with 
similar  environment  and  racial  temper.  This  hypothe- 
sis also  accounts  for  the  variations.^ 

»  F.  B.  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion,  xviii,  "Syn- 
cretism and  Polytheism." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   DEVELOPMENT   OF   RELIGION 

The  origin  of  religion,  as  has  been  shown,  is  to  be 
sought  in  the  origin  of  the  social  consciousness.  In 
other  words  the  religious  consciousness  is  identified 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  greatest  values  of  life. 
This  sense  of  value,  as  Crawley  contends,  is  the  feel- 
ing of  the  w^orth  of  life,  which  expresses  itself  in  the 
demand  for  self-preservation.  Self-preservation  is  not 
an  individual  matter  simply,  but  at  every  point  in- 
volves also  the  welfare  of  the  group.  In  the  early 
stages  no  pronounced  distinction  is  made  between  in- 
dividual and  social  phases  of  experience,  and  the  values 
which  are  felt  to  be  greatest  are  in  reality  those  social 
interests  in  which  the  individual  also  finds  his  fullest 
life.  Primitive  religion  is  therefore  social,  and  is  a 
tribal  or  group  concern.  Indeed  religion  consists  in 
this  social  consciousness.  Religion  is  constituted  by 
the  deepest,  most  vital  interests  and  ideals.  It  is  most 
manifest  in  what  is  prized  most  highly ;  in  what  society 
maintains  with  the  greatest  energy  and  caution;  in 
what  is  defended  with  the  most  devotion  and  with  the 
heaviest  penalties.  The  original  and  perpetual  spring 
of  religion  is  therefore  the  life  activity  itself  involved 
in  procuring  food,  caring  for  young,  acquiring  and 
defending  property,  and  in  furthering  social  w^elfare. 
This  vital  impulse  increases  with  its  satisfaction. 
The  craving  for  life  in  fuller  and  more  varied  forms 

168 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

increases  with  every  advance.  In  the  effort  to  appease 
his  hunger  and  thirst  primitive  man  was  dependent 
upon  bhnd  impulses  within  and  upon  an  unknown 
world  without.  He  was  therefore  largely  subject  to  in- 
stinct, to  chance  association,  and  to  momentary  need. 
Out  of  his  shifting  experience  arose  vague  notions  of 
spirits,  fanciful  myths,  the  practice  of  magic,  and  the 
observance  of  customs  and  cults.  In  all  of  these 
appears  the  will  to  live,  the  sense  of  value,  the  unre- 
flective,  elemental,  communal  quest  for  life.  Those 
spirits,  myths,  and  ceremonials  are  most  religious 
which  express  and  foster  most  vitally  these  life  inter- 
ests, and  have  therefore  the  greatest  urgency  and 
necessity.  Professor  Dewey  says:  "If  that  necessity 
is  felt  to  go  clear  down  to  his  very  existence,  not 
merely  to  his  more  transitory  thoughts;  if  he  feels 
that  those  things  are  so  interwoven  with  his  individual 
life  that  his  very  being  is  dependent  upon  them,  then 
they  are  conceded  as  religious."  ^  ,, 

!  By  development  in  religion  is  meant  that  change 
and  movement  by  which  the  social  interests  become 
larger,  more  inclusive,  elaborate,  and  refined.  It  means 
a  richer  tradition,  a  more  esthetic  ritual,  and  a  mor- 
alized conception  of  life.  Such  changes  obviously 
cannot  take  place  in  religion  independently  of  other 
phases  of  experience.  Unless  there  is  development  in 
social  organization,  and  in  methods  of  controlling 
nature,  there  can  be  no  advance  in  religion.  But 
wherever  there  are  profound  changes  in  economic 
conditions  and  in  the  machinery  of  the  social  organ- 
ism, there  changes  will  occur  also  in  religion.  The  con- 
^  Unpublished  lectures  on  the  Evolution  of  Morality. 

169 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

trolling  influences  are  primarily  economic.  The  failure 
of  the  food  supply  through  natural  causes  or  through 
the  encroachment  of  other  tribes,  the  discovery  of  new 
lands  or  resources,  the  invention  of  tools  or  weapons 
may  lead  to  radical  changes  in  the  entire  mode  of  life 
and,  consequently,  to  changes  in  that  social  conscious- 
ness with  which  religion  is  identified. 

Not  all  groups  experience  the  shock  of  migration  or 
achieve  discoveries  and  inventions  through  which 
progress  arises.  These  experiences  may  not  occur  at 
all,  or  may  come  so  abruptly  that  the  necessary  adjust- 
ment cannot  be  made.  The  latter  has  happened  with 
many  native  races  upon  the  advent  of  the  highly  com- 
plicated European  civilization.  Some  peoples,  again, 
have  apparently  maintained  themselves  for  ages  at  a 
practically  static  level.  They  have  made  their  ad- 
justment to  food  and  climatic  conditions,  and  have 
elaborated  their  customs  in  minute  details  but  with- 
out radical  changes.  This  apparently  was  the  case 
with  the  native  Australian  races  for  thousands  of  years 
before  the  advent  of  the  white  man. 

An  illustration  of  the  radical  development  of  social 
organization  following  upon  a  new  instrument  for  con- 
trolling the  environment  is  given  in  the  account  of  the 
rise  of  social  institutions  among  the  Snake  Indians. 
The  introduction  of  horses  was  the  event  which  made 
social  organization  possible.  These  Indians  inhabited 
an  almost  desert  region.  "The  paucity  of  game  in  this 
region  is,  I  have  little  doubt,  the  cause  of  the  almost 
entire  absence  of  social  organization  among  its  inhab- 
itants; no  trace  of  it  is  ordinarily  seen  among  them, 
except  during  salmon-time,  when  a  large  number  of 

170 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

the  Snakes  resort  to  the  rivers,  chiefly  to  the  Fishing 
Falls,  and  at  such  places  there  seems  some  little  organ- 
ization. .  .  .  Prior  to*  the  introduction  of  the  horse, 
no  other  tribal  arrangement  existed  than  such  as  is 
now  seen  in  the  management  of  the  salmon  fishery. 
.  .  .  The  organization  would  be  very  imperfect,  be- 
cause the  remainder  of  the  year  would  be  spent  by 
them  in  families  widely  spread  apart,  to  eke  out  the 
year's  subsistence  on  the  roots  and  limited  game  of 
their  country".  After  a  portion  of  them,  who  are  now 
called  Bonaks,  had  obtained  horses,  they  would  natu- 
rally form  bands  and  resort  to  the  buffalo  region  to 
gain  their  subsistence,  retiring  to  the  most  fertile 
places  in  their  own,  to  avoid  the  snows  of  the  moun- 
tains and  feed  their  horses.  Having  food  from  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  buffalo  hunt,  to  enable  them  to  live  to- 
gether, they  would  annually  do  so,  for  the  protection 
of  their  horses,  lodges,  etc.  These  interests  have  caused 
an  organization  among  the  Bonaks,  which  continues 
the  year  through,  because  the  interests  which  pro- 
duce it  continue;  and  it  is  more  advanced  than  that  of 
the  other  Snakes."^  The  reports  do  not  indicate  just 
how  this  social  development  expressed  itself  in  reli- 
gious symbols  and  ceremonies,  but  parallel  instances 
from  other  tribes  make  it  probable  that  the  horse  and 
the  buffalo  would  become  conspicuous  in  the  new 
ritual,  and  that  special  ceremonies  would  occur  at  the 
opening  of  the  season  for  hunting  buffalo. 
/  The  Hebrew  people  present  one  of  the  most  signifi- 
cant developments  of  religion.    They  passed  through 

*  H.  R.  Schoolcraft,  History  of  the  Indian  Tribes  of  the  United 
States,  vol.  i,  pp.  207  f. 

171 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  whole  range  of  progress  from  savagery  to  civiHza- 
tion.  Modern  knowledge  of  their  history  makes  it 
possible  to  see  how  their  social  advances  were  ex- 
pressed in  their  religious  institutions  and  traditions. 

The  fii^st  and  lowest  stage  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  psychology  of  religion  is  that  in  which  anything 
which  catches  attention  and  excites  wonder  is  con- 
sidered sacred.  The  Semitic  folk-lore  and  customs 
show  the  evidences  of  such  a  stage  when  rivers, 
springs,  trees,  stones,  caves,  and  animals,  particularly 
such  objects  as  were  unusual  in  appearance  or  in  value, 
were  sacred.  The  sacred  mountain  about  which  the 
storm-clouds  hung,  the  rock  from  which  water  flowed, 
the  serpents  and  strange  birds,  and  the  flocks  tended, 
were  all  mysterious  and  divine.  "The  religion  of  the 
desert  is  polydsemonism.  The  jinn  inhabit  every  rock 
and  bush,  and  many  of  them  receive  w^orship  from 
men.  To  a  very  late  time  Israel  remembered  that 
it  had  worshiped  the  hairy  monsters  that  infest  the 
desert.  Totemism  is  one  of  the  forms  in  which  tribal 
man  attempts  to  come  into  relation  with  superhuman 
powers.  The  vestiges  of  totemism  which  persist  in  the 
tribe  names  of  Israel  show  that  this  people  formed  no 
exception  to  the  rule."  ^ 

In  the  second  stage  the  process  of  selection  which 
accompanies  more  definite  organization  of  life  brought 
certain  objects  more  into  the  focus  of  attention.  The 
ancestors  of  the  Hebrews,  at  the  earliest  point  where 
tradition  and  the  oldest  customs  give  knowledge  of 
them,  were  nomads  and  shepherds.  Their  attention 
was  fixed  upon  their  flocks.   The  sheep  was  the  most 

1  H.  P.  Smith,  Old  Testament  History,  p.  G6. 
172 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

important  object  in  their  experience;  hence  it  was  the 
most  sacred.  It  was  a  totem  animal.  The  oldest  cere- 
monial, the  passover  feast,  is  the  survival  of  that 
stage.  All  authorities  agree  that  this  is  the  most  char- 
acteristic and  the  best  authenticated  feature  of  the 
ancient  religion.  AVe  have  seen  that  in  this  stage  the 
sacrificial  animal  was  the  god,  and  those  who  feasted 
upon  it  thereby  gained  its  magical  quality.  This 
nomadic  shepherd  life  and  the  consequent  deification 
of  the  sheep  were  characteristic  of  the  tribes  of  the 
steppe.  In  the  restless  migratory  life  of  the  desert, 
under  the  pressure  of  increasing  population  and  the 
limited  food  supply,  these  tribes  were  constantly 
pressing  westward  to  the  better  pasture  lands  and 
more  fertile  fields  along  the  Jordan  river.  Such  migra- 
tions have  occurred,  wave  upon  wave,  for  centuries. 
The  third  stage  in  Hebrew  history  is  marked  by  the 
migration  of  their  nomad  ancestors  into  this  richer 
country  to  the  west.  In  this  movement,  perhaps  ex- 
tending over  a  period  of  hundreds  of  years  and  involv- 
ing endless  tribal  wars,  they  developed  the  character- 
istics of  fighting  people,  and  their  desert  gods  became 
war  gods.  But  the  most  important  change  was 
wrought  by  the  new  mode  of  life  which  an  agricul- 
tural country  required.  Cattle  were  here  the  great 
staple  possession.  These  were  sacred  animals  of  the 
land,  and  in  the  modification  of  interests  which  neces- 
sarily followed  the  adjustment  to  these  new  condi- 
tions it  was  not  strange  that  the  bull  should  become 
sacred  to  the  invading  tribes  as  the  sheep  had  been  in 
the  desert.  The  god  of  the  ancient  tribes  has  become 
known  as  Yahweh.  The  passover  feast  is  evidence  that 

173 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

he  had  the  form  of  the  sheep,  and  when  the  interests  of 
the  people  became  identified  with  the  care  of  cattle 
it  was  natural  that  Yahweh  should  acquire  the  form 
of  the  bull.  That  the  bull  was  a  symbol  of  Yahweh  is 
clear  from  the  bull  images  that  were  set  up  at  various 
shrines  and  even  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.^  It  is 
well  known,  however,  that  Yahweh  was  by  no  means 
the  only  deity  of  these  tribes.  That  they  still  deified 
many  natural  objects  such  as  rivers,  trees,  and  the  tops 
of  hills,  is  apparent  from  their  history  much  later  than 
the  invasion.  The  impression  that  Yahweh  was  the 
only  deity  of  the  earlier  periods  is  the  result  of  the 
effort  to  unify  and  exalt  his  influence  at  a  later  period. 
The  fourth  stage  was  the  result  of  the  conflict 
between  the  desert  tribes  and  the  older  settlers  of  the 
country.  This  conflict  had  its  deepest  ground  in  the 
race  feeling  and  prejudice  which  is  as  old  as  tribal  life. 
It  is  not  diflScult  to  understand  that  these  invading 
tribes  would  be  in  constant  warfare  with  those  they 
were  seeking  to  displace.  In  their  struggles  they  gained 
reinforcements  from  some  tribes  already  in  the  land 
who  had  the  same  traditions  and  customs  of  the  old 
nomad  life.  Gradually  the  kinship  bonds  between  the 
desert  tribes  were  strengthened  by  the  rise  of  leaders 
of  prowess  and  skill.  These  leaders  were  foremost  in 
battle,  acted  as  judges  between  their  people,  and  were 
active  in  the  maintenance  of  the  old  religion.  In  time 
sufficient  cooperation  was  attained  to  make  possible 
the  development  of  temporary  leagues  of  these  tribes 
and  finally  of  the  kingship.    This  increasing  political 

1  G.  A.  Barton,  A  Sketch  of  Semitic  Origins,  p.  299;  H.  P.  Smith,  Old 
Testament,  p.  181. 

174 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

unification  was  accompanied  by  a  religious  conscious- 
ness which  became  ultimately  the  most  remarkable 
product  of  the  national  development.  The  strife  be- 
tween the  nomadic  tribes  and  the  agriculturalists  was 
felt  as  a  contest  between  the  nomadic  type  of  divin- 
ity, designated  as  Yahweh,  and  the  gods  of  the  land, 
known  as  Baalim.  Before  the  organization  of  the 
nomadic  tribes  into  a  federation,  when  the  ancient 
spirit  and  customs  were  not  protected  by  a  national 
feeling,  there  was  much  fusion  of  these  tribes  with  the 
Canaanites.  They  adopted  many  of  the  customs  of 
the  more  elaborate  civilization.  It  was  natural  that  in 
seeking  prosperity  they  should  be  eager  to  gain  the  aid 
of  the  gods  of  the  land,  and  should  participate  in  their 
ceremonials.  But  when  the  common  interests  of  the 
allied  tribes  were  urged,  there  was  a  revival  of  the 
old  nomadic  tendency  and  a  consequent  desire  to  re- 
nounce the  richer  and  more  sensuous  customs  of  the 
Canaanites  for  the  simple,  austere  ways  of  the  desert. 
Three  classes  were  influential  in  solidifying  the  reli- 
gious and  national  consciousness  upon  this  ancient 
basis,  the  priests,  the  prophets,  and  the  kings.  The 
priests,  perhaps  originally  members  of  a  tribe  particu- 
larly loyal  to  Yahweh,  scattered  through  the  country 
and  cared  for  the  ritual.  The  prophets  were  at  first 
wandering  bands  of  half-mad  enthusiasts;  and,  later, 
individual  statesman-like  champions  of  the  ancient 
ideals.  The  kings,  through  prowess  and  leadership, 
consummated  the  formation  of  the  national  life,  and 
thus  raised  Yahweh  to  supremacy  over  the  gods  of  the 
land.  Priests,  prophets,  and  kings  combined  in  sup- 
port of  the  ancient  nomadic  ideal  in  contrast  to  the 

175 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

customs  of  the  Semitic  peoples  about  them.  Out  of 
the  same  movement  which  thus  produced  the  mon- 
archy arose  ultimately,  after  a  long  period,  the  mono- 
theism of  the  Jews.  With  the  monarchy  a  new  pattern 
was  given  upon  which  the  conception  of  Yahweh  was 
remodeled.  His  animal  shape  was  reduced  to  second- 
ary symbolism,  while  he  took  on  the  anthropomorphic 
and  kingly  qualities  of  an  oriental  monarch.  Among 
the  masses  of  the  people  this  refinement  was  of  slow 
growth,  and  they  still  maintained  in  the  time  of  David 
their  local  shrines  and  ancient  animal  symbols  and 
sacrifices,  but  every  effort  was  made,  especially  by  the 
prophets,  to  substitute  Yahweh-worship  for  Baal- 
worship. 

With  the  change  and  humanizing  of  the  conception 
of  God  new  attitudes  arose  in  the  performance  of 
ceremonials  and  the  maintenance  of  customs.  As  per- 
sonality came  to  mean  more  in  the  person  of  the  king 
and  in  the  conspicuous  individuals  of  the  national 
life,  a  thought-form  was  created  in  which  it  was  pos- 
sible to  enlarge  the  idea  of  God.  In  addition  to  being 
some  mysterious  agency  with  which  it  was  important 
to  get  into  relation,  God  might  now  be  conceived 
somewhat  after  the  type  of  a  mighty  monarch  to  whom 
gifts  could  be  made  in  sacrifice,  and  from  whom  in 
return  aid  and  care  might  be  received.  Somewhere  in 
this  process  arose  the  sense  of  personal  relationship 
between  the  members  of  the  tribe  and  Yahweh,  and 
this  consciousness  of  kinship  and  identity  of  interests 
continually  increased  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
prophets.  In  this  way  the  national  spirit,  the  spirit  of 
the  united  people,  grew  into  the  objective  and  exalted 

176 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

personal  leader  and  protector,  Yahweh.  To  him  honor 
and  worship  were  rendered,  and  his  will  was  regarded 
as  the  law  of  his  land  and  people.  In  order  to  fortify 
the  claims  of  Yahweh,  history  and  tradition  were 
recast  in  a  way  to  suppress  every  evidence  that  Baal- 
worship  ever  had  been  practiced.  "It  soon  came  to  be 
regarded  as  a  stain,"  says  Budde,  "that  Baal-worship 
should  ever  have  been  practiced  in  these  localities, 
and  the  endeavor  arose  to  refer  back  their  Yahweh- 
worship  to  primeval  times.  Sacred  legends  grew  up  in 
the  bosom  of  the  priesthood  charged  with  the  service 
in  these  shrines,  whose  precipitate  now  lies  before  us 
skillfully  stratified  in  the  stories  of  the  patriarchs.  All 
sorts  of  motives  cooperated  to  form  them  and  found 
satisfaction  in  them:  Israel's  claim  to  the  possession 
of  the  land  of  Canaan;  Yahweh's  claim  to  its  sanctua- 
ries ;  the  wish  to  bring  under  the  sway  of  Yahweh  even 
the  pre-Mosaic  ancestors  of  Israel,  ancient  ancestral 
deities,  eponym  heroes,  and  whatever  else  can  be 
included  under  this  term."  ^  At  Jerusalem,  which  had 
never  been  the  shrine  of  any  Baal,  David  created  the 
sanctuary  of  Yahweh  and  concentrated  there  the  sym- 
bols and  ritual  of  his  worship.  This  marked  Yahweh's 
"final  possession  of  Canaan." 

The  antagonism  between  the  nomadic  and  the 
agricultural  types  of  life  and  religion  was  not  ended, 
however,  with  the  rise  of  the  kingdom  and  the  erec- 
tion of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  It  only  took  on  a  new 
form.  The  conflict  which  was  originally  between 
Israel  and  the  Canaanites  continued  in  the  national 
life  between  the  stricter  followers  of  Yahw^eh  and 
^  Karl  Budde,  Religion  of  Israel  to  the  Exile,  p.  107. 

177 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

those  who  had  adopted  more  or  less  of  the  rehgion  of 
Baal.  This  tension  between  the  Yahweh  party  and  the 
Baal  party  within  the  divided  kingdom  was  rife  more 
than  a  hundred  years  after  David.  The  Baalizing  of 
Ahab's  court  aroused  the  champions  of  Yahweh  anew. 
"This  opposition  was  headed  by  Elijah  the  Tishbite, 
from  Gilead,  a  country  of  pasture  lands  where  the 
forms  of  nomadic  life  and  the  original  ritual  of  the 
worship  of  Y^ahweh  were  probably  less  disturbed  by 
the  settled  life  of  the  Jordan."  ^ 

Other  elements  beside  abstract  loyalty  to  the  ancient 
religion  roused  the  prophets  of  Israel.  With  the  intro- 
duction of  the  more  indulgent  customs  of  the  Tyrian 
Baal- worship  there  came  also  greater  luxury  at  the 
court,  for  the  maintenance  of  which  the  people  were 
oppressed  and  impoverished.  The  advocates  of  the 
simple  nomadic  life  became  indignant  at  the  unaccus- 
tomed class  distinctions  and  at  the  resulting  poverty 
and  slavery  of  the  masses.  "It  is  no  accident  that  just 
at  this  time  Jonadab  ben  Rechab,  the  descendant  of 
the  ancient  Kenites  .  .  .  should  have  founded  a  sect 
hostile  to  civilization.  The  dangers  of  civilization 
w^ere  crowding  into  view  at  just  this  time  with  such 
overwhelming  force  as  seemingly  to  justify  a  pessi- 
mism which  saw  no  salvation  short  of  return  to  the 
purely  pastoral  life,  in  renunciation  of  all  the  com- 
forts of  civilization."  ^  The  devotees  of  Yahweh  see 
the  vindication  of  their  cause  in  the  calamities  which 
befall  the  nation.  This  is  the  burden  of  the  two  old- 
est literary  prophets,  Amos  and  Hosea.    The  former 

*  G.  A.  Barton,  A  Sketch  of  Semitic  Origins,  p.  300. 
^  Karl  Budde,  The  Religion  of  Israel  to  the  Exile,  p.  120. 

178 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

struggled  to  overthrow  the  feasts  which  did  not  be- 
long to  the  ancient  religion  of  the  wilderness,  and 
Hosea  tried  to  rid  Israel  of  her  Baal  lovers  and  rees- 
tablish the  old  conjugal  fidelity  to  Yahweh.  In  Amos 
the  intense  self -consciousness  of  the  clan  spirit  reaches 
the  point  of  belief  in  the  unqualified  superiority  of 
Yahweh  over  all  the  gods  of  the  heathen.  They  are 
regarded  as  subject  to  him.  Yahweh  has  proved  his 
power  by  victories  over  Canaan,  Philistia,  and  now 
over  the  Baal  of  Tyre. 

From  this  point  on,  the  intense  religious  conscious- 
ness of  the  literary  prophets,  which  is  the  expanded 
and  heightened  group  consciousness  springing  from  the 
simple  nomadic  tribal  life,  is  augmented  by  every  out- 
ward event  favoring  the  Yahweh  party,  and  is  trans- 
formed by  most  significant  moralizings  due  to  defeat 
and  suffering.  The  psychological  meaning  of  the  right- 
eousness which  Amos  and  Hosea  advocated  lies  in  this 
group  consciousness  which  had  been  built  up  by  a 
long  and  varied  history  of  conflict  and  achievement. 
Their  messages  were  moral  in  two  senses.  They  put 
into  definite  contrast  two  sets  of  customs,  the  simple 
mores  of  the  desert  over  against  the  elaborate  viores 
of  the  city  and  country;  and  they  formulated  their 
own  mores  into  general  principles  as  conditioning  the 
welfare  of  the  people  and  the  destiny  of  the  nation. 
It  is  obvious  that  the  morality  of  the  prophets  was 
the  restatement  of  the  ancient  simple  life.  They  used 
it  as  a  basis  of  protest.  Righteousness  consisted  in 
negation  of  the  customs  of  their  political,  economic, 
and  religious  opponents.  The  feasts  of  Baal,  the  aris- 
tocracy of  the  Baal-worshipers,  the  tyranny  and  op- 

179 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

pression  characteristic  of  Baal  peoples  were  offensive. 
They  were  foreign,  modern,  and  complicated.  The 
desert  customs,  in  which  elaborate  sacrifices  were 
impossible;  in  which  all  members  of  the  tribe  shared 
in  the  wealth  procured;  in  which  expensive  and  luxu- 
rious living  was  impossible  —  these  were  the  ancient 
customs  with  which  Yahweh  was  honored  and  by- 
means  of  which  his  favor  might  yet  be  assured.  All 
experiences  of  the  nation  came  to  be  regarded  as  due 
to  acts  of  Yahweh  directed  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
ancient  purity  and  simplicity  of  his  chosen  people. 
As  the  shifting  fortunes  of  the  great  neighboring 
empires  brought  Israel  and  Judah  into  various  inter- 
national situations,  the  horizon  of  the  writing  pro- 
phets widened,  but  they  never  surrendered  the  ground 
pattern  nor  the  broad  outlines  of  the  ancient  faith. 
They  therefore  inevitably  extended  their  conception 
of  Y^ahweh's  jurisdiction.  Even  the  great  empires, 
Egypt,  Babylonia,  and  Assyria,  were  instruments  in 
his  hands.  The  events  of  Israel's  history  were  of  such 
magnitude,  and  the  forces  operating  were  so  evidently 
beyond  the  power  of  a  little  nation  to  regulate  or 
hinder,  that  the  prophets,  in  whom  almost  alone  the 
great  spiritual  conceptions  developed,  were  forced  to 
regard  all  these  events  as  determined  alone  by  the 
mighty  will  of  their  God.  "It  was  not  the  tempestu- 
ous power  of  its  practiced  troops,  not  the  superior 
might  of  its  gods  which  led  Assyria  from  victory  to 
victory.  It  was  Yahweh  Himself  who  was  bringing  it 
up  as  a  scourge  against  guilty  nations,  chiefly  against 
His  own  people  Israel."  The  outward  strength  of  the 
chosen  people  mattered  little  now.    Y^ahweh  did  not 

180 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

need  an  independent  nation,  nor  any  external  ritual, 
but  only  such  faith  as  the  prophets  themselves  dis- 
played. 

Isaiah  carried  this  conception  to  the  farthest  point. 
Whatever  happened,  he  advocated  nothing  but  faith 
in  Yahweh  and  conformity  to  the  simplicity  of  the 
ancient  religion.  He  advised  the  kings  against  any 
foreign  alliance  because  Yahweh  was  supremely  pow- 
erful and  could  deliver  the  nation  if  he  would;  and 
unless  he  willed  to  do  so  every  effort  would  be  futile. 
Moreover  any  such  alliance  w^ould  be  proof  of  distrust 
which  would  be  punished  by  calamity.  The  myste- 
rious good  fortune  by  which  Sennacherib  was  com- 
pelled to  raise  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  gave  overwhelm- 
ing support  to  Isaiah's  prophecy  that  Yahweh  would 
protect  and  deliver  the  city  and  visit  disaster  upon  the 
Assyrians.  Yahweh  had  indeed  allow^ed  all  human 
help  to  exhaust  itself,  and  then  had  proved  himself 
alone  superior  to  the  greatest  foe.  Such  an  event  gave 
tremendous  increment  to  the  group  consciousness  of 
the  Yahweh  followers  and  exalted  into  new  meaning 
the  faith  in  Yahweh  w^hich  Isaiah  demanded.  It 
probably  was  partly  a  consequence  of  this  new  con- 
firmation of  the  supremacy  of  Yahweh  over  the  gods 
of  the  nations  which  later  under  Manasseh  led  to  the 
assemblj^  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  of  the  gods  of  the 
nations  as  Yahweh's  vassals.  An  accompanying  result 
was  the  adoption  of  Assyrian  and  Babylonian  myths 
and  legends  into  the  literature  of  Israel  with  the  sub- 
stitution of  Yahweh's  name  for  the  names  of  other 
gods,  and  the  purging  of  their  narratives  to  accord 
with  the  simpler  ideals  of  the  Yahweh  devotees.  "The 

181 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

narrative  of  the  creation  of  the  world,  of  the  oldest 
families  of  mankind,  of  the  mighty  flood  by  which  all 
mankind  was  destroyed  save  one  favorite  of  the  gods, 
was,  in  all  likelihood,  adopted  in  this  period  by  Israel 
from  the  Assyrians,  and  incorporated  in  its  history  of 
the  primeval  age.  The  Babylonian  cosmology,  which 
now  in  Genesis  forms  the  opening  chapter  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  thus  took  the  place  of  the  anthropocentric 
story  of  Paradise  with  the  fall  of  man,  which  belongs 
to  an  earlier  time."  ^ 

Another  and  more  complete  movement  toward  the 
exclusive  recognition  of  Yahweh,  however,  followed 
the  syncretism  of  Manasseh.  The  extremists  of  the 
Yahweh  party  succeeded  in  effecting  the  most  drastic 
reforms  under  Josiah  and  in  establishing  the  code  of 
laws  set  forth  in  Deuteronomy.  Yahweh  worship  was 
purged  from  all  images  and  symbols  and  from  all  for- 
eign cults,  and  the  purity  of  his  worship  was  farther 
sought  by  closing  all  local  shrines  throughout  the 
country  and  conducting  the  ceremonials,  such  as  the 
Passover,  at  Jerusalem. 

But  the  capital  of  the  little  country  of  Judah  could 
not  withstand  the  power  and  intrigues  of  her  power- 
ful neighbors.  By  rebellion  against  the  Chaldeans 
the  vengeance  of  Nebuchadnezzar  was  brought  upon 
Jerusalem;  her  nobles  and  warriors  were  carried  away 
captives;  the  city  and  temple  were  desecrated.  Jere- 
miah was  the  spokesman  of  the  old  rehgion  in  the 
midst  of  these  approaching  calamities.  He  warned  the 
king  against  alliance  with  Egypt  and  urged  the  sur- 
render of  the  city  to  the  Chaldeans.  After  many  were 
1  Karl  Budde,  The  Religion  of  Israel  to  the  Exile,  p.  168. 

182 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

carried  into  exile  he  did  not  encourage  them  to  hope 
for  a  return.  He  attached  no  importance  to  national 
freedom  and  power.  He  did,  however,  preach  faith- 
fulness to  Yahweh  and  magnified  the  consolation  and 
comfort  of  communion  with  him.  Jeremiah  was  him- 
self abandoned  by  relatives,  priests,  prophets,  and 
royalty.  He  stood  alone  in  his  misfortunes  but  found 
his  strength  in  Yahweh.  He  proclaimed  the  useless- 
ness  of  sacrifices  and  ordinances  in  the  spirit  of  Amos 
and  Isaiah,  and  insisted  upon  true  devotion  of  the 
heart  and  will.  The  new  covenant  is  one  written  on 
the  heart.  Thus  once  more  the  ancestral  faith  in 
Yahweh  is  purified  and  strengthened  in  defeat  by 
attaining  the  conviction  that  national  independence 
and  religious  ritual  are  not  essential  to  Yahweh's 
companionship  and  aid  for  the  individual.  Israel  does 
not  need  to  be  an  independent  people  to  enjoy  Yah- 
weh's blessings.  In  Jeremiah  the  individualizing 
anthropomorphizing  tendency  is  complete.  Yahweh 
is  a  person  with  whom  the  prophet  holds  dialogues. 
"He  complains,  he  contradicts  Him,  contends  with 
Him,  defends  himself  against  Him,  but  is  ever 
worsted  by  Him."  It  was  this  individual  piety  of 
Jeremiah  which  constituted  his  contribution  to  the 
development  of  the  ancestral  religion,  and  this  indi- 
vidualism of  his  inner  experience  was  a  natural  culmi- 
nation of  the  prophetic  opposition  to  all  the  external 
forms  of  religion.  It  was  also  a  natural  refuge  from 
the  calamities  which  had  overtaken  his  nation  and 
city  and  from  the  abandonment  and  persecution 
which  the  prophet  suffered  at  the  hands  of  his  people. 
The  fifth  stage  of  this  religious  history  is  marked  by 

183 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  exile.  It  is  distinguished  by  two  types  of  expecta- 
tion. One  is  that  of  Ezekiel,  which  represents  a  rever- 
sion to  the  more  material  hope  of  Israel  and  to  the 
priestly  conception  of  religion.  He  portrays  the  return 
of  the  tribes  to  their  own  land  and  the  rebuilding  of  the 
temple  on  its  old  site.  He  sees  the  religion  of  Yahweh 
revived  with  increased  precautions  for  all  ceremonial 
purity  and  holiness.  It  is  the  holiness  of  remoteness  and 
the  correctness  of  the  worship.  Elaborate  provision  is 
made  for  ranks  of  priests  to  avoid  all  ceremonial  pollu- 
tion. While  this  priestly  Utopia  was  never  realized,  it 
nevertheless  exerted  a  determining  effect  upon  the  his- 
tory and  literature  of  the  subsequent  period.  "For,  in 
reality,  the  principles  and  aims  of  the  priestly  law  are 
all  in  every  respect  derived  from  Ezekiel,  who  has 
justly  been  called  in  recent  times  the  father  of  Juda- 
ism." The  code  of  Leviticus,  and  the  priestly  historical 
document  were  the  direct  results  of  the  prophet's  influ- 
ence; while  the  glowing  descriptions  of  the  restored 
Israel  became  the  basis  of  many  eschatological  hopes 
which  find  their  full  expression  in  the  apocalypse  of 
Daniel  and  the  kindred  literature  of  a  later  time. 

But  the  exile  produced  in  the  Second  Isaiah  a 
further  refinement  of  the  idealizing  tendencies  which 
had  found  such  clear  expression  in  Amos,  Isaiah,  and 
Jeremiah.  In  them  the  course  of  events  had  confirmed 
faith  in  the  power  and  greatness  of  Yahweh,  but  only 
by  compelling  them  to  relinquish  all  claim  to  his  de- 
pendence upon  the  maintenance  of  the  nation  or  upon 
the  outward  worship  of  a  faithful  people.  Instead  of 
being  crushed  by  any  calamities,  the  prophetic  faith 
in  Yahweh  was  so  invincible  as  to  turn  to  its  own 

184 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

support  every  national  disaster.  The  second  Isaiali, 
through  the  experiences  of  the  exile,  and  particularly 
in  the  hope  of  the  overthrow  of  the  Chaldeans  by 
Cyrus,  added  the  final  development  to  the  universal- 
ity and  exclusiveness  of  the  conception  of  God.  For 
this  prophet  Yahweh  is  the  only  God.  There  never 
has  been  any  other.  The  others  are  manufactured 
by  human  hands  from  wood  and  stone.  Moreover 
Yahweh  is  really  the  God  of  all  other  nations  as  well 
as  of  Israel.  He  has  chosen  Israel  as  a  means  of  mak- 
ing himself  known  to  other  peoples,  and  when  they 
witness  the  redemption  of  Yahweh's  suffering  Servant, 
the  nation  of  Israel,  they  too  will  bow  before  Yahweh 
and  acknowledge  his  rule.  Thus  the  trials  of  the  na- 
tion lead  to  a  comprehensive  universalism  within 
which  the  suffering  of  Israel  gains  an  elevated  and 

ennobling  explanation.  „_ 

A  sixth  historical  epoch  in  the  Hebrew  religion  was 
attained  in  the  rise  of  Christianity.  Two  conceptions 
which  had  long  been  forming  found  revival,  purifica- 
tion, and  increment  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  These 
were  the  ideals  of  a  divine  kingdom  and  of  inward 
ethical  character.  Both  were  directly  related  to  the 
prophetic  conception  of  God  as  the  God  of  all  nations, 
and  as  the  God  of  infinite  justice  and  mercy.  In  the 
long  and  troubled  national  history  the  conviction 
grew  that  the  religion  of  Yahweh  did  not  depend  upon 
the  existence  of  the  state  nor  upon  the  maintenance  of 
the  ritual  of  formal  worship.  In  the  process  Y^ahweh 
became  superior  to  the  primitive  condition  in  which  a 
god  is  so  dependent  upon  his  group  that  he  degen- 
erates into  a  demon  or  disappears  entirely  when  the 

185 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

group  life  ceases.  The  writing  prophets  were  repeat- 
edly compelled  by  political  disasters  either  to  admit 
the  defeat  of  Yahweh  or  to  claim  that  he  was  working 
out  plans  which  proved  him  to  be  superior  to  all  out- 
ward human  aid.  They  did  the  latter.  In  these  plans 
he  came  to  be  viewed  as  guiding  the  affairs  of  all  the 
nations,  using  them  merely  as  instruments  for  effect- 
ing his  sovereign  will.  The  conclusion  was  that  the 
supreme  concern  should  be  to  gain  Yahweh's  favor, 
and  that  this  could  be  done  only  through  faith  and 
purity  of  life.  Here  was  attained  the  reversal  of  the 
earliest  attitude.  In  the  earliest  stages  of  religion  the 
god  is  in  mutual  relation  wuth  his  people.  They  sup- 
port him,  give  him  food  and  precious  gifts,  and  in 
turn  make  demands  upon  him,  threaten,  punish,  and 
reward  him.  But  with  the  great  prophets  Yahweh 
receives  the  utmost  reverence.  He  does  not  need 
armies,  alliances,  and  sacrifices.  Faith  alone  is  re- 
quired, and  those  who  possess  this  "tender,  passive 
individualism"  of  Jeremiah  and  obey  patiently  God's 
will  by  walking  in  his  way  will  receive  salvation  and 
become  the  agents  of  the  divine  kingdom.  Jesus  pro- 
claimed this  God  of  power  and  holiness  with  still 
greater  tenderness  and  compassion.  Those  who  have 
faith  in  his  Fatherly  pity  and  graciousness  will  be 
received  with  all  forgiveness  and  blessing.  That  is  the 
meaning  of  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  There  are 
no  national  or  outward  limitations  to  this  divine  favor. 
That  is  shown  in  the  conversation  with  the  Samaritan 
woman.  Such  believers  constitute  the  religious  com- 
munity, the  spiritual  Israel,  the  true  kingdom  of  God. 
That  is  the  significance  of  Jesus'  assurance  that  those 

186 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

who  have  faith  shall  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  re- 
gardless of  their  ancestry  or  nationality.* 

Many  things  in  the  experience  of  Jesus  contributed 
to  his  acceptance  and  enrichment  of  this  prophetic 
idea  of  God  and  of  the  kingdom  as  a  society  of  those 
who  have  this  faith.  There  was  spread  out  before  him 
the  history  itself,  a  history  in  which  the  power  of  Yah- 
weh  must  be  seen,  if  at  all,  in  the  punishment  and 
discipline  of  his  people.  In  this  humiliation  of  Israel 
the  kings  of  the  nations  had  been  his  scourges.  In 
Jesus'  own  time  only  such  a  view  could  give  any  mean- 
ing to  the  national  history.  The  foreign  hand  was  still 
heavy  upon  the  land.  God  must  be  more  than  a  God 
of  Israel  or  he  could  be  no  God  at  all,  and  since  he 
evidently  was  not  one  w^ho  depended  upon  armies  and 
temples,  he  must  be  the  God  of  a  spiritual  kingdom 
which  had  no  local,  outward,  or  ceremonial  limita- 
tions. This  supra-national  character  of  God  was  also 
rooted  in  the  immediate  contact  of  Jesus  with  men  of 
various  races  and  classes.  That  which  pressed  upon 
his  attention  wherever  he  went  was  the  great  human 
need,  —  poverty,  sickness,  discouragement,  sin,  and 
unsatisfied  spiritual  hunger  and  thirst.  Redemption 
from  these  things  demanded  a  compassionate  God  of 
mercy  and  truth,  of  righteousness  and  infinite  love. 
The  salvation  which  the  officials  of  religion  in  his  time 
offered  involved  such  details  of  ceremonial  obser- 
vances and  such  minute  legal  requirements  that  they 
were  hindrances  rather  than  aids.  Burdens  too  heavy 
to  be  borne  were  thus  laid  upon  the  people,  while  those 
who  were  most  faithful  devotees  of  the  Law  and  the 

*  G.  B.  Stevens,  The  Teaching  of  Jesus,  p.  62.    Cf.  Matt,  viii,  10-12. 

187     ' 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Temple  were  ever  busy  with  mint,  anise,  and  cumxmin, 
and  neglected  the  weightier  matters.  Thus  they  be- 
came bigoted  zealots,  full  of  formalism  and  hypocrisy. 
From  them  Jesus  turned,  as  the  great  prophets  had 
turned  from  the  priests  and  the  popular  prophets, 
and  proclaimed  a  God  who  is  Spirit  and  who  is  Love. 
He  felt  the  need  of  a  God  who  is  approachable  by 
the  humblest  soul,  w^ithout  ceremonials  or  ordinances, 
whose  forgiveness  and  aid  are  for  all  who  have  faith 
and  seek  righteousness. 

The  other  notable  element  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
was  its  ethical  inwardness.*  This  is,  of  course,  not 
separable  from  his  idea  of  the  divine  righteousness 
and  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  sufferings  of  the 
nation  had,  before  the  time  of  Jesus,  forced  sensitive 
minds  to  question  whether  there  was  any  relation 
between  righteousness  and  prosperity,  betw^een  virtue 
and  happiness.  It  w^as  the  problem  of  Job  and  it  was 
the  burden  of  the  Wisdom  literature.  The  latter 
taught  that  the  principle  held :  suffering  is  the  result 
of  sin.  If  therefore  a  man's  outward  life  was  virtuous, 
his  suffering  must  be  due  to  some  "secret  sin."  So 
involved  and  deep-lying  might  this  hidden  fault  be 
that  the  person  himself  would  be  unconscious  of  it :  — 
Who  can  discern  his  errors? 
Cleanse  thou  me  from  unwitting  faults ! 

The  confusion  in  the  Wisdom  literature  was  in  regard- 
ing such  inner  qualities  as  merely  subjective,  or  at 
most  as  determining  one's  relation  to  God.  Pride  and 
a  stubborn  w^ill  w^ere  thought  of  chiefly  as  something 

1  Arthur  O.  Lovejoy,  "The  Origins  of  Ethical  Inwardness  in  Jewish 
Thought,"  American  Journal  of  Theology,  1907,  p.  228. 

188 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

which  God  could  not  endure.  They  were  not  con- 
ceived as  elements  which  are  inherently  and  intrinsi- 
cally incompatible  with  social  righteousness. 

Christianity  took  up  this  element  of  ethical  inward- 
ness, developed  by  the  Hebrew  sages,  and  connected 
it  with  the  social  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
This  connection  appears  in  the  insistence  of  Jesus  that 
the  feelings  and  desires  of  the  heart  shall  not  terminate 
in  their  mere  occurrence  in  the  heart  as  sentimental 
emotions,  nor  yet  exist  with  sole  reference  to  the  kind 
of  a  heart  which  the  all-seeing  eye  of  God  might  ap- 
prove; rather  that  these  feelings  and  desires  of  one's 
inmost  nature  shall  have  issue  in  social  relations.  The 
love  enjoined  is  love  of  one's  neighbor,  of  one's  enemy. 
In  the  contrasts  which  Jesus  points  betw^een  his  teach- 
ing and  that  of  the  olden  time  he  transfers  the  empha- 
sis from  the  overt  act  to  the  motive  and  intent  of 
the  heart,  but  preserves  —  and  this  is  his  greatest 
achievement  —  the  organic  relation  of  the  purpose 
and  the  deed.   Anger  and  hatred  are  forbidden  rather 
than  acts  of  violence  alone,  because  anger  and  hatred 
are  the  fountains  of  such  crimes.    They  are  the  first 
stages  of  a  continuous  process  ending  in  blows  and 
bloodshed.  Lustful  thought  is  prohibited  because  it  is 
the  beginning  of  adultery,  and  the  taking  of  oaths  is 
sinful  because  it  involves  irreverence  and  untrust- 
worthiness  in  common  afiirmations.    It  was  not  the 
outward  deed  alone,  nor  the  inner  desire  alone,  but  the 
outgoing,  objectifying,  socially  effective  attitude  of 
will  which  proved  a  man's  virtue  or  sinfulness.   And 
^  this  established  itself  intrinsically.  Virtue  of  this  kind 
carried  its  own  reward  of  satisfaction  and  efficiency. 

189 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

It  possessed  its  own  consolation  and  peace.  It  con- 
tributed to  the  creation  of  an  actual  social  order 
within  which  the  inherent  rewards  of  right  conduct 
could  be  experienced,  and  it  provided  an  assurance 
that  in  the  fuller  development  of  the  social  order  to 
which  all  such  effort  tended,  the  rewards  of  righteous- 
ness would  be  increasingly  attained. 

In  Christianity  the  development  of  religion  has 
continued  and  still  continues,  under  the  stress  of 
conflicting  social  influences  ;  by  the  formation  of  in- 
stitutions and  parties;  and  by  means  of  the  great 
democratic  social  awakenings  and  the  rise  of  the  scien- 
tific spirit  of  inquiry.  These  agencies  have  created 
new  types  of  social  consciousness  in  terms  of  which 
the  conception  of  personality,  human  and  divine,  is 
undergoing  changes,  and  the  ancient  demand  for  more 
adequate  social  justice  is  being  pressed  with  new 
claims.^  With  the  gradual  working  out  of  democratic 
ideals  in  society  and  the  application  of  scientific 
methods  and  results  to  the  whole  round  of  human  in- 
terests and  endeavor  there  are  hints  of  the  rise  of  a 
religion  of  science  and  democracy.^  "Viewed  in  this 
way,  as  the  expression  of  the  profoundest  social  con- 
sciousness, religion  must  continue  to  advance  in  the 
future,  as  in  the  past,  in  close  relation  with  the  con- 
crete life  of  mankind. 

Parallel  development,  through  certain  stages  at 
least,  has  been  traced  in  other  religions.  The  trans- 
formations of  Dionysus  and  other  Greek  gods  in  con- 

1  J.  H.  Tuft3,  "The  Adjustment  of  the  Church  to  the  Psychological 
Conditions  of  the  Fresent,"  American  Journal  of  Theology,  vol.  xii,  1908. 

2  John  Dewey,  Hibbert  Journal,  July,  1908. 

190 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

sequence  of  economic  and  political  fortunes  have  been 
elaborately  presented.^  Probably  the  reason  the  Greek 
religion  did  not  attain  a  continuous  development  was 
that  its  earlier,  cruder  forms  had  become  fixed  in  the 
writings  of  Hesiod  and  Homer  and  in  the  popular 
imagination.  There  were  attempted  reforms  com- 
parable to  those  of  the  Hebrew  prophets,  but  with- 
out avail.  The  result  was  an  independent  growth  of 
moral  and  social  ideals  which  were  regarded  as  sharply 
contrasted  with  religion.^  The  Greek  philosophers, 
like  Plato,  appeared  therefore  to  oppose  religion  itself, 
and  thus  what  may  be  called  an  accident  of  history 
has  probably  been  an  influential  factor  in  giving  cur- 
rency to  the  conviction  that  religion  and  philosophy, 
not  to  say  religion  and  morality,  are  incompatible. 

One  of  the  most  significant  features  of  social  and 
religious  development  is  that  of  the  survival  of  early 
customs  in  later  periods.  Christianity  is  full  of  forms 
and  doctrines  which  illustrate  this  tendency. 

The  oldest  feast  of  the  Hebrews,  the  Passover, 
determines  the  conceptions  which  centre  in  the  Mass 
or  the  Lord's  Supper.  The  oldest  ideas  of  sacrifice 
persist  here  too.  The  communicant  partakes  of  the 
magic  life,  literally  by  eating  the  body  and  drinking 
the  blood ;  or  ideally  by  employing  the  bread  and  wine 
as  symbols.  It  is  the  old  process  of  establishing  fel- 
lowship and  social  unity  by  eating  and  drinking.  In 
Baptism,  also,  there  continues  the  form  of  purgation 
in  which  sin  is  regarded  as  physical  contagion  and  sub- 

^  L.  R.  Farnell,  The  Cults  of  the  Greek  States.    Jane  E.  Harrison, 
Prolegomena  to  the  Study  of  Greek  Religion. 
*  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Ethics,  p.  116. 

191 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ject  to  exorcism  by  the  magical  power  of  water  and  the 
use'  of  a  specific  formula.  The  use  of  the  "name"  in 
prayer,  the  observance  of  special  days  and  seasons, 
the  regard  for  familiar  superstitions  concerning  sacred 
or  evil  numbers,  days  of  the  week,  vestments  of 
priests  and  services  of  worship,  show  how  persistent 
such  survivals  are.  These  survivals  would  have  less 
significance  if  they  were  only  this,  but  they  indicate 
the  persistence  in  human  society  of  the  cruder  types 
of  mind  to  which  such  customs  are  natural  and  satis- 
fying. Some  fashions  do  continue,  like  the  dead  leaves 
upon  the  trees  in  autumn,  after  all  vitality  has  left 
them.  But  the  sacramental  doctrines  and  customs 
of  religion  spring  from  the  living  and  perennial  super- 
stition of  the  masses.  They  exist  not  merely  because 
it  is  the  fashion  to  cultivate  them,  but  also  because  the 
magic  and  mystery  which  they  involve  are  native  to 
unenlightened  minds.  "As  to  'survivals'  of  primitive 
speculation  and  custom  into  civilized  periods,  the 
term  is  misused  when  it  is  implied  that  these  are  dead 
forms,  surviving  like  fossil  remains  or  rudimentary 
organs;  the  fact  is  that  human  nature  remains  poten- 
tially primitive,  and  it  is  not  easy  even  for  those  most 
favored  by  descent  to  rise  above  these  primitive  ideas, 
precisely  because  these  ideas  'spring  eternally'  from 
permanent  functional  causes."  ^ 

When  human  nature  rises  above  primitive  condi- 
tions into  scientific  conceptions  and  into  a  broader, 
many-sided  civilization,  the  earlier  customs  are  trans- 
formed by  new  content  or  entirely  discarded.    "Our 

1  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Mystic  Rose,pA;  Sumner,  Folkways,  chapter  v, 
••Societal  Selection." 

192 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  RELIGION 

pagan  ancestors,  when  they  launched  a  ship,  bound  a 
captive  to  the  rollers  to  propitiate  the  god  of  the  sea. 
The  bottle  of  wine  broken  on  the  ship's  prow  to-day  is 
our  way  of  'reddening  the  keel'  of  the  vessel  to  be 
launched  and  insuring  her  good  luck.  The  old  form  is 
kept,  but  what  a  change  in  the  spirit!"  ^ 

But  the  vitality  and  strength  of  real  religion  is  only 
enhanced  by  the  transfusion  of  the  growing  social 
consciousness  into  new  forms  and  methods  of  expres- 
sion. That  social  consciousness  remains  the  constant, 
enveloping  reality  of  human  experience.  Without  it 
individualism  becomes  anarchy.  By  means  of  it  the 
individual  is  identified  with  the  great  movements  of 
history  and  is  able  to  transcend  the  momentary  and 
illusive  interests  of  the  sensuous  and  material  phases 
of  life.  In  the  organized  efforts  of  his  group  primi- 
tive man  felt  himself  in  league  with  vast  powers.  The 
widening  scope  and  increasing  control  of  conscious, 
cooperative  social  enterprises  has  only  enhanced  that 
consciousness  of  the  magnitude  and  marvelous  char- 
acter of  the  forces  with  which  the  individual  is  allied. 
If  the  sense  of  participation  in  the  tribal  wars  of  desert 
nomads,  or  the  right  to  share  in  the  harvest  of  the 
little  land  of  Palestine  could  arouse  the  religious  senti- 
ments of  gratitude  and  awe,  how  much  deeper  and 
richer  may  be  the  religious  consciousness  which  holds 
in  imagination  the  immense  universe  of  modern  sci- 
ence and  possesses  the  key  to  so  many  secrets  of 
welfare  and  progress.  If  the  symbols  of  that  little 
simple  human  world  aroused  the  devotion  and  enthu- 
siasm of  sensitive  men,  the  symbols  of  the  present 

^  E.  A.  Hoss,  Social  Psychology,  p.  142. 
193 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

world  have  meaning  and  value  to  produce  still  greater 
reverence  and  more  efficient  service. 

We  have  thus  far  considered  the  nature  of  religion 
and  the  processes  by  which  it  arises  in  the  social  expe- 
rience of  the  race.  It  is  important  also  to  view  the  way 
in  which  these  organized  social  values  of  the  group  are 
appropriated  by  the  individual,  and  to  analyze  the 
psychical  phenomena  which  they  produce  in  individual 
experience. 


PART  III 

THE  RISE  OF  RELIGION  IN  THE  INDIVIDUAL 


CHAPTER  XI 

RELIGION   AND    CHILDHOOD 

Since  religion  is  identified  with  the  fullest  and  most 
intense  social  consciousness,  the  problem  of  the  rise  of 
religion  in  the  individual  resolves  itself  into  the  ques- 
tion of  the  origin  of  his  social  consciousness.  Every 
human  being  is  confronted  from  birth  with  the  social 
customs  and  sentiments  of  his  group.  If  he  does  not 
respond  to  them  from  the  first,  it  is  not  because  they 
are  not  present  in  institutions,  beliefs,  and  practices 
constantly  encircling  his  life.  It  is  because  he  does  not 
possess  capacity,  interests,  experience,  and  imagina- 
tion for  such  things.  It  is,  therefore,  the  task  of  psy- 
chology to  investigate  the  nature  of  the  child  with 
reference  to  his  relation  to  social  and  religious  ideas 
and  activities,  and  to  determine  at  what  period  and 
under  what  circumstances  the  individual  attains  the 
capacities  and  interests  which  enable  him  to  share 
fully  in  the  community  life. 

For  this  purpose  a  brief  survey  of  the  various 
periods  of  childhood  is  suggestive.  The  theory  of 
recapitulation  in  the  child  of  the  stages  in  racial  devel- 
opment is  not  a  trustworthy  guide  here.  That  theory 
has  been  modified  by  the  recognition  of  "short-cuts" 
and  the  influence  of  the  immediate  social  environment 
in  the  development  of  the  individual.^    The  surer 

1  Baldwin,  Mental  Development,  p.  20;   Thomas,  Sex  and  Society, 
p.  282. 

197 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

method  is  observation  and  analysis  of  individual  chil- 
dren in  reference  to  mental  progress  and  awakening. 

The  period  of  infancy  extends  from  birth  two  and  a 
half  or  three  years.  The  baby  exercises  his  muscles 
and  sense  organs  through  impulsive  and  instinctive 
reactions.  This  activity  is  increasingly  selective  and 
results  in  such  control  of  the  larger  muscles  as  is 
involved  in  creeping,  walking,  and  in  the  hand-eye 
movements.  The  use  of  the  sense  organs  and  usually 
some  proficiency  in  speech  are  gained  by  the  third 
year.  The  organism,  during  this  period,  is  chiefly 
concerned  with  nutrition  and  with  the  larger  bodily 
movements  and  adjustments.  The  infant  is  not  posi- 
tively a  member  of  the  human  world  if  judged  by  his 
ability  to  participate  in  it  in  a  human  way.  He  is 
more  nearly  on  the  level  of  animal  life,  though  in 
ability  to  care  for  himself,  he  is  inferior  to  other  ani- 
mals. The  actions  of  the  infant,  not  being  guided  or 
conditioned  by  individual  judgment,  are  non-moral 
and  non-social.  The  infant  is  not  a  person  in  any 
proper  functional  sense.  Modern  psychology  denies 
to  the  mature  individual  the  possession  of  a  "soul"  in 
the  sense  of  a  substantial  and  static  entitv  within  him, 
and  only  accepts  the  term  reluctantly  when  it  is  made 
synonymous  with  person  or  agent.  It  is  therefore  still 
less  defensible  to  think  of  the  infant  as  possessing  a 
soul.  He  is  an  active,  sensitive,  growing  organism  on 
the  way  to  become  human,  to  be  a  person  and  to  grow 
a  soul  or  character.  As  an  infant,  he  is  therefore  non- 
religious. 

The  six  years  extending  from  infancy  to  second 
dentition  approximately  cover  the  period  of  early 

198 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

childhood.  Here  physical  activity  continues  dominant 
with  more  attention  to  details.  "The  child  now  likes 
to  play  games  that  test  the  sharpness  of  the  senses; 
he  likes  to  experiment  with  new  movements  —  to 
walk  on  tiptoe,  to  skip  and  dance,  to  play  finger- 
games,  to  draw,  to  string  beads,  and  so  on."  ^  Imita- 
tion is  strong  now.  The  occupations  of  the  persons 
about  him  become  his  models.  He  plays  school, 
church,  and  store.  Boys  ape  the  manners  of  their 
older  brothers,  and  girls  delight  to  wear  long  dresses 
and  care  for  their  dolls  as  they  see  mothers  and  nurses 
caring  for  their  charges.  The  plays  are  imitative  and 
repetitious.  They  are  marked  by  predominant  inter- 
est in  persons.  Inanimate  objects  are  personified. 
Mr.  Wind,  Mr.  Rain,  and  Jack  Frost  are  characters  of 
varying  caprice  and  benignity.  All  objects  of  interest 
are  given  names.  As  memory  and  imagination  develop, 
tales  are  invented,  and  there  is  great  interest  in  hearing 
stories.  "Children's  lies"  belong  to  this  period  where 
fragmentary,  random  impressions  and  imaginative 
tendencies  are  not  checked  by  any  adequate  apprecia- 
tion of  the  distinctions  between  truth  and  fiction.  The 
child  delights  in  the  train  of  images  and  in  the  expres- 
sions of  shock  and  surprise  which  he  is  able  to  elicit 
from  playmates  and  elders  by  his  assertions. 

The  ends  in  which  the  child  interests  himself  up  to 
the  age  of  about  nine  are  immediate  and  momentary. 
He  delights  in  nonsense  rhymes  and  jingles  largely  for 
the  sensuous  joy  of  the  rhythm  and  of  the  rhyming 
words.  His  activities  in  the  same  way  show  the  limited 
nature  of  his  interest.    "The  child  enjoys  the  action 

^  A.  E.  Tanner,  The  Child,  p.  236. 
199 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE^ 

for  its  own  sake  without  much  reference  to  any  end. 
Little  children  who  are  playing  'Pom  pom  pullaway/ 
for  instance,  may  forget  all  about  the  goal  in  the  de- 
light of  running,  and  end  the  game  in  a  chase.  So  also 
a  little  fellow  begins  to  draw  the  story  of  the  Three 
Bears,  gets  interested  in  making  the  bear,  and  covers 
his  paper  with  bears.  The  movement  or  activity  is 
what  he  enjoys.  He  does  not  care  for  making  some  thing 
so  much  as  he  does  for  going  through  the  movements 
of  making."  ^  Many  acts  often  attributed  to  childish 
destructive  tendencies  are  really  due  to  this  delight  in 
activity.  Knocking  down  the  pile  of  blocks  is  much 
the  same  as  building  it  up,  so  far  as  the  exercise  of 
energy  is  concerned,  with  the  added  interest  due  to 
the  crash  which  accompanies  the  collapse.  The  child 
does  not  estimate  the  consequences  of  his  deed.  He 
strikes  matches  and  delights  in  the  pretty  flames  of  the 
burning  papers  without  realizing  the  danger  of  burning 
down  the  house.  He  finds  a  loose  tile  on  the  hearth 
and  proceeds  to  pull  up  one  tile  after  another,  and  is 
unable  to  understand  the  anger  and  dismay  of  his  par- 
ents upon  finding  the  wreck  he  has  caused.  It  is  the 
little  girl's  love  of  using  the  scissors  which  leads  her  to 
cut  off  her  own  hair  or  to  gash  her  dress.  When  repri- 
manded she  does  not  know  why  she  does  such  things 
and  is  unable  to  appreciate  the  full  meaning  of  the 
prudent  mother's  extended  remarks  upon  thoughtful- 
ness  and  economy.  The  child's  experience  is  piece- 
meal and  haphazard.  His  extreme  suggestibility  is 
further  evidence  that  he  does  not  hold  in  mind  the 
ends  to  which  acts  lead.  His  interests  are  momentary, 
»  A.  E.  Tanner,  The  Child,  p.  237. 
200 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

only  slightly  related,  and  therefore  have  little  sequence 
or  consistency.  All  phases  of  his  world  are  of  this 
fragmentary  character.  He  does  not  hold  his  images 
apart  from  their  motor  responses.  He  has  no  unified 
and  proportioned  conception  of  himself.  His  passing 
feelings  are  the  determining  factors  in  controlling  his 
acts.  His  memory  is  short,  and  the  corrections  and 
encouragements  for  conduct  must  be  connected  neces- 
sarily with  his  likes  and  dislikes,  even  with  his  sensu- 
ous pleasures  and  pains.  These  may  be  of  the  cruder 
sort  of  corporal  punishment  and  sweet-meat  rewards, 
or  they  may  be  of  the  more  humane  character  of  dis- 
ciplinary silence  and  educative  play. 

This  fragmentary  and  immediate  character  of  their 
experience  accounts  in  large  measure  for  the  individu- 
alism, the  selfishness,  and  the  cruelty  of  children.  Their 
personality  is  narrow  and  centered  in  the  feeling  of  the 
moment.  They  do  not  go  beyond  delight  in  their  own 
activity  to  consider  its  effect  upon  others  in  any  per- 
sonal way.  It  is  the  movement  and  action  of  the  tor- 
mented animal  or  child  which  they  notice.  There  is  a 
satisfaction  in  finding  one's  self  able  to  produce  such 
lively  effects.  This  sense  of  power,  of  novelty  and 
curiosity,  is  quite  detached  from  any  adequate  appre- 
ciation of  the  feelings  of  the  one  tormented.  The  ex- 
perience and  organized  imagery  are  lacking,  without 
which  permanent  and  comprehensive  social  attitudes 
are  impossible  in  any  human  being,  whether  child  or 
adult.  The  intellectual  life  reflects  this  chaotic,  un- 
organized state  in  the  chance  associations  which  it 
makes.  Theological  ideas  are  caught  up  piecemeal 
and  superficially.    The  delight  of  children  in  fairies, 

201 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

sprites,  and  goblins,  whose  conduct  is  more  or  less 
capricious  and  always  mysterious,  is  evidence  that 
children  do  not  demand  unity  and  consistency  in 
the  "supernatural"  beings  of  their  fancy.  They  pre- 
fer action,  cleverness,  and  spectacular  achievements. 
Sully  cites  many  instances  of  the  tendency  of  children 
to  assimilate  the  idea  of  God  to  their  scale  and  manner 
of  thinking.  In  his  admiration  for  the  workmanship 
of  the  Creator,  which  he  was  nevertheless  under  neces- 
sity of  putting  into  terms  of  human  labor,  one  little 
boy,  on  seeing  a  group  of  workingmen  returning  from 
their  work,  asked  his  mother:  "'Mamma,  is  these 
gods?'  'God,'  retorted  the  mother.  'Why.^'  'Be- 
cause,' he  went  on,  'they  makes  houses,  and  churches, 
mamma,  same  as  God  makes  moons  and  people  and 
'ickle  dogs.'  Another  child,  watching  a  man  repair- 
ing the  telegraph  wires  that  rested  on  a  high  pole  at 
the  top  of  a  lofty  house,  asked  if  he  was  God."^  In  his 
prayers  the  little  child  asks  earnestly  for  toys  and 
pleasures,  and  if  they  are  not  obtained,  falls  out  with 
God  as  easily  as  with  a  playmate.  All  attempts  to 
inculcate  ideas  of  divine  omnipotence,  omniscience, 
and  ubiquity  inevitably  result  in  confusion  and  literal- 
ism. The  mind  can  only  operate  on  the  basis  of  its 
experience,  and  when  that  is  limited  all  objects  are 
determined  and  limited  accordingly.  The  little  child 
displays  only  faint  traces  of  a  sense  of  personality, 
appreciation  of  social  relations  and  of  ends  or  ideals  be- 
yond the  moment.  He  is,  therefore,  lacking  to  a  large 
degree  in  the  attitudes  which  are  essentially  social  and 
spiritual.    In  so  far  as  he  does  possess  such  interests 

^  James  Sully,  Studies  of  Childhood,  p.  127. 

202 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

and  values  he  is  moral  and  religious,  but  it  is  a 
matter  of  small  degree  and  of  slight  beginnings. 
Many  things  in  religious  history  and  practice,  how- 
ever, afford  points  of  contact  at  this  level.  Such  are 
the  heroic  deeds  of  individuals,  the  outward  customs 
of  dress,  food,  migration,  war,  and  ceremonial.  These 
materials,  woven  into  story  form  and  set  forth  in  pic- 
tures, in  dramatic  representation,  and  in  manual  arts, 
can  be  appropriated  by  the  child,  but  their  full  signifi- 
cance and  their  fundamentally  religious  quality  as 
complex  social  phenomena  are  beyond  his  powers. 

In  later  childhood,  which  extends  from  second 
dentition  to  early  puberty,  that  is  from  about  the 
ninth  to  the  thirteenth  year,  the  brain  has  reached 
approximately  the  normal  adult  weight,  and  the 
powers  of  generalization,  comparison,  and  analysis 
are  attained,  but  there  is  a  lack  of  experience  and  con- 
sequently of  ability  to  enter  deeply  into  the  social 
experiences  of  mature  persons.  During  this  period  in- 
terests gradually  widen.  The  child  is  able  to  pursue 
more  remote  ends  and  to  employ  more  complex  means 
to  accomplish  his  purposes.  He  begins  to  defer  imme- 
diate wants  for  greater  future  interests,  and  learns  to 
work  somewhat  indirectly  for  the  more  important 
ends  or  ideals. 

This  tendency  may  be  illustrated  in  several  specific 
interests.  In  games,  the  boy  of  ten  or  twelve  prefers 
those  which  give  opportunity  for  the  most  vigorous 
physical  activity.  This  interest  is  accompanied  by  in- 
creasing skill,  involving  finer  muscular  adjustments.  In 
drawing  and  workmanship,  there  is  more  attention  to 
details,  though  without  proportion.  A  few  features  in 

203 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

the  schematized  whole  are  made  prominent,  as  shown 
in  G.  S.  Hall's  "Story  of  a  Sand  Pile."  Here  the  barn 
gates  were  worked  out  with  much  greater  care  than 
other  parts  of  the  farm.  During  these  years  a  marked 
change  is  noticeable  from  a  pronounced  individualism 
toward  cooperation  and  social  feeling.  "When  co- 
operative games  are  played  before  eleven,  there  is 
little  feeling  of  solidarity.  The  boy  is  generally  willing 
to  sacrifice  the  interest  of  the  group  to  his  personal 
glorification.  The  earlier  interest  in  such  games  seems 
to  be  proportionate  to  the  amount  of  opportunity 
they  afford  for  the  exhibition  of  personal  prowess,  but 
the  pre-adolescent  glories  in  the  fact  that  it  is  his  club 
or  team  that  has  won."  ^ 

This  nascent  social  attitude  is  conspicuous  in  the 
intense  interest  in  the  organization  of  secret  societies 
and  clubs  from  the  tenth  to  the  thirteenth  year.  But 
the  purposes  for  which  these  groups  are  formed  show 
that  the  period  is  still  dominated  to  a  large  extent  by 
the  desire  for  physical  activity  and  for  adventure.  The 
clubs  and  societies  of  this  period  are  the  outgrowth 
of  athletic  and  predatory  tendencies.  The  ends  sought 
are  somewhat  more  complex  and  more  remote  than 
those  of  earlier  childhood,  and  there  is  more  concerted 
and  sustained  effort  in  their  attainment,  but  they  are 
ends  impossible  of  the  highest  idealization  or  sociali- 
zation. Investigation  of  a  large  number  of  such  organ- 
izations proved  that  only  seven  per  cent  of  children's 
clubs  are  formed  before  ten,  and  but  one  per  cent  at 
seventeen  and  later.  Eighty-seven  per  cent  are  formed 
between  ten  and  fifteen,  and  seventy-seven  per  cent  of 

^  Irving  King,  The  Psychology  of  Child  Development,  p.  192. 

204 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

them  are  athletic  and  predatory.  MiKtary  organiza- 
tions, such  as  boys'  brigades,  are  popular.  Few  vol- 
untary organizations  are  formed  in  this  period  for 
art  or  literature,  and  practically  none  for  religious 
purposes.* 

The  choice  of  occupation  reflects  the  same  growing 
ability  to  appreciate  more  remote  objects  and  to  hold 
in  imagination  characters  and  enterprises  not  close  at 
hand.  The  results  of  a  study  by  Earl  Barnes  ^  shows 
that  children  from  eight  to  thirteen  rapidly  cease  to 
choose  characters  in  the  immediate  environment  as 
their  ideal.  At  eight  years  forty-two  per  cent  chose 
characters  close  at  hand,  while  at  thirteen  only  fifteen 
per  cent  did  so.  This  shift  of  the  centre  of  interest 
from  a  narrow  to  a  wider  range  is  shown  in  the  same 
study  in  the  fact  that  the  interest  in  historical  and 
public  characters  was  represented  by  seventeen  per 
cent  at  eight  years  and  by  sixty-nine  per  cent  at  thir- 
teen years. 

The  interest  in  making  collections  of  stamps,  but- 
tons, coins,  stones,  and  other  objects  confirms  the 
same  point.  Before  the  age  of  nine  the  collections  are 
of  trivial  objects,  from  the  immediate  surroundings, 
and  the  collections  are  made  in  a  scrappy  manner. 
There  is  no  attempt  at  systematic  classification.  But 
after  the  age  of  nine,  the  child  makes  more  collections 
and  goes  out  of  his  way  to  get  them.  The  social  ten- 
dency is  seen  in  trading  as  a  means  of  increasing  these 
collections,  and  there  are  more  definite  attempts  to 
make  careful  classifications.   The  social  factor  in  col- 

1  Irving  King,  The  Psychology  of  Child  Development,  p.  203. 
^  "Children's  Ideals,"  Pedagogical  Seminary,  vol.  vii,  p.  3  fif. 

205 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

lecting  is  seen  in  the  desire  to  imitate  the  example  of 
others,  and  also  in  the  effort  to  surpass  one's  associates 
in  variety  and  quantity. 

The  results  of  the  varied  and  minute  psychological 
study  of  child  nature  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  reli- 
gion is  not  an  instinct  in  the  child,  nor  a  special  en- 
dowment of  any  kind.  Religion  is  rather  an  experience 
of  groups  of  individuals  resulting  from  their  collective 
and  cooperative  effort  to  secure  and  preserve  the 
ideals  which  appeal  to  them  as  possessing  the  greatest 
value.  The  child  up  to  about  thirteen  years  is  capable 
of  only  very  limited  social  ideals  because  his  experi- 
ence is  too  small  to  afford  him  the  basis  for  large  gen- 
eralizations and  for  complex,  comprehensive,  social 
conceptions.  He  is  religious  in  the  degree  and  to  the 
extent  to  which  his  powers  and  experience  enable  him 
to  enter  into  the  religious  values  of  his  social  environ- 
ment or  to  find  such  values  in  his  community  life. 
This  religious  experience,  limited  and  partial  as  it  is, 
demands  respect  and  sympathy  from  all  who  are  in 
any  way  responsible  for  the  training  of  the  young. 
They  cannot  be  required  without  injury  to  assume  the 
forms  and  terms  of  the  religion  of  their  elders.  They 
necessarily  live  their  own  life,  on  the  scale  of  interests 
which  is  natural  to  them,  and  gradually  pass  on  into 
an  understanding  and  support  of  the  institutions  and 
activities  which  growing  experience  requires.  Irving 
King  has  stated  the  morality  of  the  child  in  relation  to 
the  developed  social  order  in  terms  equally  applicable 
to  religion.  "It  is  clear  he  cannot  at  first,  nor  even 
well-nigh  to  youth,  have  a  comprehension  of  the 
meaning  of  the  complex  system  of  values  recognized 

,  20G 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

by  society.  He  can  learn  their  meaning  only  by  meet- 
ing crises  for  himself  and  readjusting  his  direct  and 
unreflective  action  to  broader  settings.  Such  a  pro- 
cess necessitates  years  of  growth  mentally  and  abun- 
dant opportunity  for  interaction  with  playmates  and 
elders.  Until  he  has  thus  grown  into  this  complex  life, 
its  requirements  must  always  seem  external  and,  in  a 
sense,  imposed  upon  him.  .  .  .  On  his  own  plane  of 
experience  he  has  a  limited  moral  code  of  his  own,  and 
the  degree  of  his  adjustments  of  action  to  these  values 
that  he  has  himself  worked  out  may  be  counted  his 
real  morality."/  Professor  Starbuck  remarks  in  deal- 
ing with  this  question,  "Children,  like  savages,  can 
possess  just  such  a  religion  as  they  have  minds  and 
hearts  to  comprehend,"  and  insists  that  "religion 
changes  its  form  and  content  as  life  changes."  ^ 

This  functional  view  of  mental  development  and 
of  the  growth  of  religious  consciousness  in  connection 
with  mental  maturity  and  social  experience  solves 
some  of  the  theological  puzzles  and  furnishes  psy- 
chological explanation  for  many  customs  with  refer- 
ence to  the  treatment  of  children.  It  has  been  cus- 
tomary to  regard  the  child  as  outside  the  social  order, 
an  alien  and  even  an  enemv  to  the  interests  which 
adults  considered  most  important.  The  impulsive, 
unreflective  nature  of  the  child,  w^hich  puts  him  fre- 
quently in  opposition  to  the  settled  order  of  the 
society  about  him,  makes  him  appear  contrary  and 
rebellious,  flippant  and  devoid  of  reverence.   On  this 

*  Irving  King,  The  Psychology  of  Child  Development,  pp.  137,  138. 
2  E.  D.  Starbuck,  "The  Child-Mind  and  Child-Religion,"  The  Bibli- 
cal World,  1908,  p.  101. 

207 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

account  he  has  been  regarded  by  many  theologians  as 
sinful  and  perverse  by  nature,  and  without  the  capa- 
city for  any  good  thought  or  deed,  until  miraculously 
regenerated  by  supernatural  power.  The  diary  of 
Cotton  Mather  tells  how  he  took  his  four-year-old 
daughter  into  his  study  and  "set  before  her  the  sinful 
Condition  of  her  Nature,  and  charged  her  to  pray  in 
Secret  Places  every  day  that  God  for  the  sake  of  Jesus 
Christ  would  give  her  a  new  Heart."  Even  at  the 
present  day  a  well-known  Presbyterian  clergyman 
writes:  "The  Presbyterian  doctrine  concerning  the 
relation  of  young  children  to  God  is  this:  That  by 
original  nature,  in  their  first  state,  they  are  in  a  state 
of  deficiency,  needing  the  touch  of  divine  grace  with 
regenerative  power,  before  they  are  made  the  subjects 
of  salvation.  This  touch  of  divine  grace  or  regenera- 
tive presence  in  the  child  life  may  come  at  birth,  or,  as 
I  believe  and  I  think  others  do,  may  come  before  birth 
or  quickly  after."  *  Such  an  opinion  may  reveal  a 
more  human  conception  of  God  among  theologians 
to-day,  but  it  is  chiefly  significant  as  a  survival  of  an 
unpsychological  notion  of  childhood  and  of  the  man- 
ner of  its  development.  Those  older  theologians  w^ho 
believed  that  the  touch  of  divine  grace  was  given  in 
the  period  of  later  childhood  had  some  basis  of  fact 
for  their  theory,  for  it  is  true  that  the  child  then  begins 
to  display  genuine  social  interests  and  is  able  to  have 
some  real  contact  even  with  the  extreme  orthodoxy  of 
the  old  Calvinistic  religion.  But  to  suppose  that  the 
religious  nature  is  miraculously  implanted  at  birth 

1  Letter  to  Professor  Coe  quoted  in  his  work.  Education  in  Religion 
and  Morals,  pp.  66  f. 

208 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

or  before  birth  betrays  inconsistent  and  unscientific 
ideas,  both  of  religion  and  of  human  nature. 

Many  champions  of  the  child,  reacting  against  the 
older  view  that  he  is  irreligious  and  depraved,  have 
posited  a  religious  nature,  instinct,  or  sense  with  which 
the  child  is  endowed  and  which  is  capable  of  awaken- 
ing and  development  under  proper  nurture.  But  it  is 
not  necessary  to  assume  such  a  religious  nature,  and 
psychological  analysis  does  not  justify  it.  All  that 
psj^chology  permits  is  the  conclusion  that  the  infant 
is  non-religious,  non-moral,  and  non-personal;  that  in 
early  childhood  impulsive,  sensuous  reactions  together 
with  absorption  in  immediate  details  and  fragmentary 
interests  make  it  impossible  for  the  child  under  nine 
years  to  pass  beyond  the  non-religious  and  non-moral 
attitude  to  any  considerable  degree;  but  that  in  later 
childhood  up  to  about  thirteen  years  of  age  he  responds 
to  more  interests  of  a  social  and  ideal  character,  and 
thus  manifests  tendencies  and  attitudes  which  are 
religious  in  character.  These  beginnings  of  religious 
life  are  the  accompaniment  of  crude  cooperative  ac- 
tivities. They  are  the  first  gleams  of  the  sense  of  powder 
and  opportunity  which  result  from  team  work  and 
from  social  organization.  But  the  distance  which  still 
separates  the  individual  of  late  childhood  from  the 
adult  social  and  religious  world  is  seen  in  the  tendency 
of  these  juvenile  organizations  to  be  secret  and  to  cul- 
tivate a  certain  opposition  and  antagonism  to  the 
larger  social  order.  This  is  notable  in  the  gangs  of 
boys  which  delight  to  maintain  a  kind  of  tribal  life 
of  their  own.  G.  Stanley  Hall  summarizes  the  investi- 
gations of  Gulick  on  this  subject.  "  Gulick  has  studied 

209 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  propensity  of  boys  from  thirteen  on  to  consort 
in  gangs,  do  'dawsies'  and  stumps,  get  into  scrapes 
together,  and  fight  and  suffer  for  one  another.  The 
manners  and  customs  of  the  gang  are  to  build  shanties 
or  'hunkies,'  hunt  with  shng  shots,  build  fires  before 
huts  in  the  woods,  cook  their  squirrels  and  other 
game,  play  Indian,  build  tree-platforms,  where  they 
smoke  or  troop  about  some  leader,  who  may  have  an 
old  revolver.  They  find  or  excavate  caves,  or  perhaps 
roof  them  over;  the  barn  is  a  blockhouse  or  a  battle- 
ship. In  the  early  teens  boys  begin  to  use  frozen  snow- 
balls or  put  pebbles  in  them,  or  perhaps  have  stone- 
fights  between  gangs  than  which  no  contiguous  African 
tribes  could  be  more  hostile.  They  become  toughs  and 
tantalize  policemen  and  peddlers:  'lick'  every  enemy 
or  even  stranger  found  alone  on  their  grounds;  often 
smash  windows;  begin  to  use  sticks  and  brass  knuckles 
in  their  fights;  pelt  each  other  with  green  apples; 
carry  shillalahs,  or  perhaps  air  rifles."  ^ 

The  first  spontaneous  social  interests  have  therefore 
a  certain  intense  anti-social  character,  judged  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  organized  institutions  of  adults. 
Consequently  the  child,  even  in  this  stage  of  pre- 
adolescence,  stands  outside  the  constituted  order  and 
easily  reacts  to  it  as  something  quite  external  to  him. 
It  is  not  strange  then  that  the  developed  adult  world 
of  traditions  and  inflexible  customs  should  in  turn 
regard  the  child  as  an  alien.  In  the  most  civilized  so- 
cieties one  is  not  formally  recognized  as  a  person  until 
after  the  period  of  adolescence  is  nearly  completed, 
that  is,  at  eighteen  years  for  females  and  at  twenty- 

*  G.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  396. 

210 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

one  years  for  males.  The  minor  is  a  ward,  a  dependent, 
a  passive  being  before  the  law.  The  same  is  true  among 
savages.  The  infant  is  taboo  and  dangerous.  Among 
the  Kafirs,  when  the  second  teeth  begin  to  be  cut,  the 
boy  is  taken  from  association  with  the  women,  but  is 
only  allowed  on  the  outer  circle  of  the  real  world  of  the 
men.  "  Children  are  thus  regarded  as  negligible  quan- 
tities until  after  puberty;  they  take  practically  no 
part  in  the  religious  or  social  rites  of  the  clan.  .  .  . 
They  are  not  taught  religion  in  any  formal  way  and 
are  freely  allowed  to  break  some  laws  of  the  clan."  * 

The  records  of  their  own  childhood  experience  by 
mature  persons  add  interesting  confirmation  to  the 
conclusions  of  genetic  psychology  and  to  the  obser- 
vations of  particular  children  by  specialists.  The 
records  of  more  than  eighty  cases  which  I  have 
gathered  confirm  the  generalization  of  Starbuck  based 
upon  similar  records.  He  says:  "One  of  the  most  pro- 
nounced characteristics  of  the  religion  of  childhood  is 
that  religion  is  distinctively  external  to  the  child  rather 
than  something  which  possesses  inner  significance.''  ^  In 
the  replies  I  received  to  the  question,  What  impressions 
did  the  church  services  and  the  Sunday  School  make  ? 
the  most  frequent  answer  was  that  they  made  little 
or  no  impression  at  all.  "Up  to  the  age  of  twelve,  I 
know  of  no  definite  impression  the  church  service 
made  on  me.  I  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course."  "lean- 
not  recall  any  impressions  that  church  and  Sunday 
School  made  except  that  I  acquired  a  definite  habit 
of  attendance  and  reverence."    "My  memory  of  the 

^  Dudley  Kidd,  Savage  Childhood,  p.  14. 
*  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  at  Religion,  p.  194. 

211 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

impression  that  Church  and  Sunday  School  made  upon 
me  is  not  at  all  clear."  "The  impressions  made  by 
the  Sunday  School  were  very  vague."  "  Cannot  recall 
impression  made  by  church  services  and  Sunday 
School." 

The  experience  of  others  was  the  feeling  that  the 
services  were  not  for  them.  "Church  services  im- 
pressed me  as  being  the  'proper  thing'  but  not  par- 
ticularly applicable  to  us  outsiders."  "I  always  felt 
that  they  had  no  real  significance  for  any  one  except- 
ing the  elderly  and  most  devout  church  members." 
Many  recall  the  fact  that  they  were  attracted  to  the 
services  by  minor  factors,  the  walk  or  drive,  fresh 
clothes,  meeting  other  children,  the  music,  stories,  etc., 
elements  which  would  not  ordinarily  be  considered  in 
any  sense  religious.  "Sunday  School  I  liked.  I  en- 
joyed the  sabbath  freshness,  wearing  my  best  clothes 
and  meeting  with  other  clean,  well  dressed  children." 
"Sunday  was  a  delightful  day.  We  had  a  beautiful 
drive  through  one  mile  of  woodland  to  the  Church, 
and  there  I  met  my  little  friends,  and  we  had  such  a 
good  time  visiting  while  in  the  Sunday  School  class. 
I  cannot  recall  any  of  my  teachers  or  any  definite 
impression  I  received  from  them,  although  I  must 
have  received  something."  "The  Sunday  School 
impressed  me  with  sacred  things,  yet  the  being  with 
other  children,  especially  my  cousins,  before  and  after 
Sunday  School  was  the  thing  that  attracted  me." 
"  Sunday  School  was  pleasant  because  of  the  hymns 
and  the  teacher.  Also  an  interest  in  learning  cate- 
chism and  Bible  verses."  Several  speak  of  liking  their 
teachers,  enjoying  reciting  verses,  and  getting  books 

212 


RELIGION  AND  CHILDHOOD 

from  the  library.  One  seemed  to  get  satisfaction  out 
of  his  power  of  endurance.  "The  Church  services 
were  not  very  impressive,  only  I  thought  it  was  nice 
and  right  to  stay  through  a  long  service  because  older 
ones  did."  The  child's  unconscious  subjection  to 
routine  is  expressed  by  another.  "I  believe  I  went  to 
Sunday  School  because  it  never  entered  my  mind  that 
any  other  course  of  action  was  possible."^ 


CHAPTER  XII 

RELIGION   AND   ADOLESCENCE 

The  results  of  the  psychological  investigations  of 
religious  experience  by  Starbuck,  Coe,  James,  Hall, 
Leuba,  and  others  agree  that  the  period  of  adolescence 
is  preeminently  the  period  of  the  rise  of  religious  con- 
sciousness in  the  individual.  Statistical  inquiries, 
which  are  likely  to  be  extended  in  a  much  more  com- 
prehensive way  by  future  observations,  are  already 
sufficient  to  show  in  broad  outlines  that  for  the 
individual  religion  originates  in  youth.  There  are 
foregleams  of  it  in  late  childhood  and  marked  develop- 
ments of  it  in  mature  years,  but  the  period  of  original, 
spontaneous  and  vital  awakening  is  the  teens.  This 
religious  experience  is,  however,  not  an  inevitable  and 
uniform  occurrence  in  all  individuals.  It  is  conditioned 
by  training,  environment,  physical  development,  and 
social  influences.  Religion  is  subject  to  the  same 
determining  factors  as  are  other  social  phenomena  — 
such  as  language,  art,  domesticity,  patriotism.  In  any 
society  all  persons  are  likely  to  experience  these  to 
some  extent,  but  it  is  not  due  to  their  native  endow- 
ments alone,  nor  to  accidental  circumstances,  but  to 
the  operation  of  social  forces  within  the  experience 
and  consciousness  of  each  person.  The  specific  factors 
and  processes  involved  in  this  variable  development 
of  the  religious  consciousness  in  different  persons  will 
be  treated  in  other  connections.    There  are  two  im- 

214 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

portant  problems  to  be  considered  here.  One  concerns 
the  evidence  that  religion  arises  in  the  individual  dur- 
ing adolescence.  The  other  is  the  question  of  the 
causes  which  produce  this  result  in  this  period. 

One  of  the  most  significant  and  best-established 
facts  which  the  new  science  of  the  psychology  of 
religion  has  discovered  is  that  conversion  belongs 
primarih^  to  the  years  between  ten  and  twenty-five. 
This  is  the  period  of  adolescence,  and  justifies  the 
observation  that  conversion,  or  the  beginning  of 
religion,  is  an  adolescent  phenomenon.  Starbuck  ob- 
serves, "that  if  conversion  has  not  occurred  before 
twenty,  the  chances  are  small  that  it  will  ever  be 
experienced."  ^  Coe  brings  together  the  cases  of 
178-i  men  and  finds  that  the  average  age  of  the  most 
decisive  religious  awakening  or  conversion  is  16.4 
years.  This  result  is  made  more  significant  by  noting 
that  the  1784  cases  are  gathered  by  different  investi- 
gators from  different  groups  of  people,  and  each  set  of 
cases  agrees  closely  with  the  average  age  of  the  whole 
number.  G.  Stanley  Hall  brings  together  over  four 
thousand  cases  of  men  in  whom  the  average  age  of 
conversion  is  about  sixteen. ^  He  also  quotes  less  accu- 
rate observations  of  evangelists  and  ministers  based 
upon  extended  experience.  These  confirm  in  general 
terms  the  foregoing  conclusions.  All  agree  that  be- 
tween ten  and  twenty  religious  awakening  occurs  in 
far  the  largest  number.   Before  and  after  that  period 

*  E.  D.  Starbuck,  The  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  28.  Conversion 
is  here  used  in  the  broader  sense,  signifying  no  particular  type  of 
awakening. 

^  G.  S.  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  290. 

215 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  number  is  relatively  very  small.  Professor  Coe, 
in  his  more  recent  investigations,  considers  early 
adolescence,  about  the  age  of  twelve,  the  more  impor- 
tant turning  point.  This  is  the  time  when  the  "gang 
impulse"  is  strong,  and  under  proper  training  it  is 
available  for  the  larger,  socializing  process  of  reli- 
gion.^ It  is  probably  true  that  the  age  of  joining  the 
church,  especially  in  many  protestant  bodies,  does  not 
correspond  to  the  time  of  first  religious  interest  in  the 
child,  owing  to  the  very  common  opinion  that  a  child 
of  twelve  is  too  young  to  understand  the  obligations 
of  church  membership.  This  opinion  in  turn  may  be 
ascribed  to  the  practice  once  prevalent  in  many  com- 
munions of  requiring  all  candidates  for  membership  to 
make  an  elaborate  statement  of  faith  and  to  subscribe 
to  a  difficult  creed.  When,  however,  the  reception  of 
candidates  is  based  less  upon  theological  doctrine  and 
more  upon  interest  in  other  aspects  of  religion  or  upon 
formal  catechisms,  it  is  customary  to  receive  them 
into  membership  in  early  puberty.  At  that  time  the 
impulse  is  less  conscious  of  itself  and  less  critical,  but 
it  may  serve  as  the  means  of  genuine  attachment  to 
the  social  group  or  religious  body.  Starbuck  found  the 
curve  representing  conversions  contained  three  pro- 
nounced peaks  indicating  the  points  at  which  the 
greatest  number  of  conversions  occurred.  These  were 
at  the  ages  for  males  of  twelve,  sixteen,  and  nineteen, 
the  highest  being  at  sixteen.  He  also  found  that  these 
years  represented  well  marked  stages  in  the  physical 
and  mental  development  of  adolescence.  At  twelve, 
with  the  beginnings  of  puberty,  there  is  great  im- 

*  G.  A.  Coe,  Education  in  Religion  and  Morals,  p,  255. 

216 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

pressionability  and  responsiveness  to  social  sugges-' 
tion.  At  sixteen  the  physical  and  psychical  ferment  of 
adolescence  is  at  its  height,  and  at  nineteen,  mental 
maturity  and  more  reasoned  decisions  are  character- 
istic.^ 

In  liturgical  churches  practical  wisdom  through 
long  experience  has  fixed  upon  this  period  of  adoles- 
cence as  the  best  time  for  confirmation.  Greater 
importance  belongs  to  this  fact  than  is  generally  recog- 
nized, since  such  a  practice  involves  a  recognition  of 
the  fitness  and  readiness  of  children  to  enter  into  these 
relations.  Among  the  orthodox  Jews  the  oldest  form 
of  confirmation  takes  place  at  thirteen.  The  child 
now  becomes  responsible  for  his  own  acts.  The  father's 
responsibility  ceases.  The  boy  becomes  a  member  of 
the  congregation,  and  has  the  right  to  participate  in  the 
service  of  worship.  In  Roman  Catholic  countries,  the 
age  of  confirmation  varies.  In  Italy  confirmation  may 
be  received  as  early  as  seven.  In  France  and  Belgium 
the  earliest  age  for  the  rite  is  ten,  while  in  America  it 
is  eleven  or  twelve.  In  the  Greek  Russian  Church  con- 
fession, which  takes  the  place  of  confirmation,  occurs 
about  eight.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  however,  that 
there  has  been  a  tendency  here  to  remove  back  to  an 
earlier  age  the  rites  which  were  once  observed  at 
puberty,  just  as  circumcision  among  the  Jews  seems 
to  have  been  moved  back  from  early  adolescence  to 
infancy.  In  the  Episcopal  Church  in  England  and 
America  girls  are  seldom  confirmed  earlier  than 
twelve,  or  boys  earlier  than  fourteen.  In  the  Lutheran 
Church  confirmation  occurs  at  fourteen  or  fifteen. 

»  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  pp.  30,  206. 

217 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

These  ceremonies  of  confirmation  in  the  religion  of 
modern  society  correspond  to  the  initiatory  rites  of 
primitive  peoples.  Such  rites  are  universal.  They 
indicate  in  an  impressive  way  the  radical  change 
which  transforms  the  individual  during  puberty  and 
adolescence.  "The  universality  of  these  rites  and 
their  solemn  character  testify  impressively  to  a  sense 
of  the  critical  importance  of  this  age  almost  as  wide  as 
the  race."  ^ 

The  external  evidence  could  scarcely  be  more  con- 
clusive that  the  period  of  adolescence  is  the  time  in 
which  the  individual  enters  naturally  upon  religious 
and  other  social  relations.  At  this  time  his  social 
nature  blooms  into  full  power,  so  that  the  inner  ca- 
pacities and  energies  respond  for  the  first  time  with 
spontaneity  and  depth  of  interest  to  the  established 
customs  and  institutions  of  the  race.  The  limited  and 
external  attitudes  of  the  child  give  way  before  a  sense 
of  the  importance  of  the  group  and  of  the  ideal  val- 
ues of  the  social  world. 

This  new  social  attitude,  of  which  religion  is  the 
deepest  and  most  intimate  phase,  is  capable  of  still 
further  explanation.  The  period  of  adolescence  is 
marked  by  rapid  and  thorough-going  changes  in  the 
whole  physical  and  psychical  nature.  The  entire  body 
increases  in  size  and  weight.  From  fourteen  to  sixteen 
American  boys  average  an  increase  in  height  of  four 
and  one-half  inches.  Girls  from  eleven  to  thirteen 
become  five  inches  taller.  The  heart,  lungs,  and  repro- 

1  G.  S.  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  232.  The  chapter  gives  a  survey 
of  initiation  ceremonies  among  savages,  in  classical  antiquity,  during 
the  Middle  Ages  and  throughout  Christendom. 

218 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

ductive  organs  undergo  remarkable  development  in 
this  period.  The  muscles  increase  in  length  and  thick- 
ness, and  according  to  some  investigators  the  muscular 
tissue  grows  faster  during  puberty  than  any  other 
tissue.  There  is  relatively  great  resistance  to  disease. 
Before  puberty  the  heart  is  small  relative  to  the 
arteries,  but  in  maturity  the  heart  is  large  and  the 
arteries  relatively  small.  The  blood-pressure  is  conse- 
quently greatly  and  even  suddenly  increased  during 
puberty.  At  birth  the  relation  of  the  heart  to  the 
arteries  is  as  25  to  20;  at  the  beginning  of  puberty  it  is 
as  140  to  50;  and  in  maturity  it  is  as  290  to  61.  These 
and  other  changes  have  been  investigated  in  great 
detail.  G.  Stanley  Hall,  in  his  encyclopedic  work  on 
Adolescence,  has  brought  together  a  surprising  fund 
of  information  concerning  the  changes  incident  to 
adolescent  development.  Nearly  all  of  these  changes 
are  those  of  enlargement,  increased  vitality,  emotional 
sensitivity^  and  intellectual  power. 

The  central  and  determining  factor  in  this  whole 
period  is  the  appearance  and  maturing  of  the  sexual 
instinct.  No  other  feature  of  the  complex  change  com- 
pares in  importance  with  this.  It  is  the  organizing  and 
controlling  factor.  Adolescence  may  be  characterized 
^'as  primarily  the  time  when  youth  comes  to  con- 
sciousness of  the  sexual  functions,  and  when  the  chief 
problem  of  coordination  is  that  of  adjustment  to  the 
values  of  the  social  organism  in  which  he  lives."  ^  At 
puberty  the  seat  of  authority  shifts  from  the  outer  to 
the  inner  world.  The  instinct  which  hitherto  moved 
parents  and  teachers  to  protect  and  further  the  wel- 

1  Irving  King,  Psychology  of  Child  Development,  p.  223. 

219 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

fare  of  the  individual  now  lives  within  his  own  nature, 
urging  him  forward  to  act  for  himself  in  the  compan- 
ionship and  social  life  which  love  creates.  This  in- 
stinct radiates  into  many  forms  of  expression  both 
direct  and  indirect.  Religion  embodies  many  of  these 
complex,  ideal  manifestations  of  the  sexual  impulse  in 
varying  degrees  of  elaboration  in  institutional  agen- 
cies and  in  theoretical  conceptions,  according  to  the 
different  levels  of  social  evolution.  This  relation  of 
sex  and  religion  has  sometimes  received  such  partial 
and  inadequate  expression  as  to  make  the  claim  of 
such  connection  seem  absurd  and  repulsive.  This  is 
true  of  those  accounts  of  religion  which  emphasize 
vulgar,  sensual  cults  as  particularly  typical  of  the 
nature  of  religion.  Both  the  synchronous  appearance 
of  the  sexual  instinct  and  religious  awakening,  and  the 
common  social  character  of  the  two,  point  to  their 
fundamental  connection.  "Nor  is  religion  degraded 
by  the  recognition  of  this  intimate  relationship,  save 
to  those  who  either  think  vilely  about  sex  or  who  lack 
insight  into  its  real  psychic  nature,  and  so  fail  to  real- 
ize how  indissoluble  is  the  bond  that  God  and  nature 
have  wrought  between  religion  and  love."  ^  Starbuck 
says,  "The  fact  that  spiritual  upheavals  centre  mostly 
in  the  early  years  of  adolescence  rests  ultimately  upon 
the  new  developments  then  taking  place  in  connection 
with  the  reproductive  system.  The  physiological  birth 
brings  with  it  the  dawning  of  all  those  spiritual  accom- 
paniments which  are  necessary  to  the  fullest  social 
activities.  .  .  .  This  is  the  time  biologically  when  one 
enters  into  deep  relation  with  racial  life.  In  a  certain 

^  G.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  293. 

220 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

sense  the  religious  life  is  an  irradiation  of  the  repro- 
ductive instinct."  ^ 

Those  who  regard  religion  as  a  perversion  of  the 
sexual  instinct,  and  those  who  consider  religion  as 
antagonistic  to  this  instinct,  may  be  answered  with 
facts.  Phallic  worship  is  often  cited  as  evidence  of  the 
perversion  of  the  sexual  instinct.  Crawley  replies 
that,  "Phallic  worship  proper  is,  however,  extremely 
rare, if,  indeed,  it  ever  occurs;  veneration,  it  is  true, is 
frequently  found,  but  this  like  many  a  so-called  cult,  is 
simply  an  affirmation  of  the  sacredness  of  life.  No  stu- 
dent of  anthropology  now  regards  as  serious  the  many 
attempts  which  have  been  made  to  raise  such  cases  to 
the  rank  of  organized  'phallic  religions.^"  ^  In  the 
cruder  religions  where  practices  revolting  to  the  mod- 
ern sense  are  found,  it  is  yet  true  that  there  is  a  love  of 
life  which  affords  a  certain  idealization  of  the  life- 
giving  processes  upon  which  attention  has  been  fixed. 
Among  primitive  peoples  the  gods  were  the  givers  of 
life  and  of  material  blessings,  including  the  young  of 
the  flocks  and  the  children  of  the  family.  The  gods 
were  the  gods  of  fertility,  of  reproduction.  All  agen- 
cies and  processes  of  this  reproductive  life  were  sacred. 
The  sexual  organs  and  the  sexual  acts  were  sacred,  and 
they  were  accordingly  consecrated  by  religious  cere- 
monies. The  very  antagonism  which  some  claim  to 
discover  between  developed  religion  and  the  sexual 
instinct   is   due  to  the  fact  that  religious  customs 

1  "E.!).  Starhnck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  401.  The  fact  that  Star- 
buck  does  not  grasp  clearly  the  full  implications  of  this  view  does  not 
weaken  the  force  of  the  above  statement  of  fact. 

2  Ernest  Crawley,  The  Tree  of  Life,  p.  272. 

221 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tend  to  regulate  and  thereby  preserve  and  idealize 
this  instinct.  Any  ascetic  tendencies  in  developed 
religions  are  more  than  offset  by  the  scrupulous, 
sympathetic  regard  for  the  reproductive  life,  which  is 
expressed  by  making  marriage  a  sacrament,  circum- 
cising or  christening  the  infant,  conceiving  the  deity 
as  father,  and  exalting  motherhood  in  worship  and 
in  art. 

It  is  important  to  follow  in  some  detail  the  workings 
of  this  instinct  in  the  period  of  adolescence  in  order  to 
make  clear  in  what  sense  religion  is  regarded  as  an 
"irradiation  of  the  reproductive  instinct."  It  is  the 
social  character  of  the  sexual  nature  which  makes 
it  so  important  in  religion.  This  may  be  shown  in 
terms  of  the  socializing  process  which  accompanies 
the  rise  of  the  sexual  instinct  in  the  individual.  With 
the  beginning  of  adolescence  the  social  impulses  mani- 
fest themselves  in  ways  and  with  an  intensity  which 
cannot  be  accounted  for  in  terms  of  imitation,  of  in- 
tellectual development,  or  of  social  pressure.  There 
is  something  so  spontaneous  and  irresistible  about  the 
social  interests  of  youth  as  obviously  to  indicate  that 
they  have  some  other  source  than  the  will  of  teachers 
or  other  leaders.  The  social  feeling  of  adolescence  is 
original,  inner,  and  urgent.  The  young  man  in  his 
teens  displays  a  sensitiveness  to  the  praise  and  blame 
of  his  companions  and  others  which  is  too  strong  to  be 
ascribed  to  reason  or  custom.  He  is  influenced  in  vari- 
ous ways  by  his  new,  strange  interest  in  the  opposite 
sex.  His  bluff,  self -centered  impulses  are  now  softened 
and  restrained  by  desire  to  win  affection  and  admira- 
tion, and  by  anxious  care  for  the  comfort  and  happi- 

222 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

ness  of  the  one  he  loves.    No  other  influence  is  com- 
parable to  this  maturing  instinctive  disposition  for  the 
development  of  attitudes  of  sympathy,  cooperation, 
and  sociability.    For  the  first  time  in  his  experience 
there  is  a  powerful  and  compelling  inner'motive  urging 
regard  for  anotherto  the  point  of  complete  self  devo- 
tion. No  labor,  danger,  or  sacrifice  is  too  great  to  win 
the  fair  one.    This  phenomenon  affords  endless  ma- 
terial for  poetry,  fiction,  and  art.   On  the  side  of  the 
difficulties  encountered,  jealousies  engendered,  and 
disappointments  suffered,  it  is  the  theme  of  the  drama 
and  tragedy.    In  the  common  experience  of  average 
individuals,  no  other  interest  surpasses  that  which 
lovers  feel  in  each  other;  and  all  people  instinctively 
share  this  feeling  with  an  intensity  which  permits  no 
doubt  that  here  is  reenacted  the  most  important  event 
in  the  history  of  the  individual  and  the  race.    It  is 
through  this  affection  and  respect  for  the  opposite  sex 
that  the  whole  complex  system  of  social  ends  and  in- 
stitutions establishes  its  strongest  hold  upon  the  in- 
dividual. Through  it  the  individual  is  identified  with 
the  welfare  of  others  by  his  own  inmost  desire :  in  this 
way  through  the  home,  the  school,  the  shop,  and  the 
state  he  is  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  vast  social  order 
of  the  material  and  ideal  activities  of  mankind.   His 
life  is  thereby  disciplined,  moralized,  and  spiritual- 
ized. 

The  strength  of  the  sexual  instinct  on  the  social  side 
appears  in  the  extreme  sensitiveness  to  the  opinion  of 
others,  both  in  the  craving  for  favorable  attention  and 
in  the  anguish  inflicted  by  adverse  criticism.  The 
power  and  range  of  this  sensitiveness  in  human  life  are 

223 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

better  understood  when  viewed  as  an  inheritance  from 
man's  animal  ancestry.  The  male  bird  carefully 
grooms  himself,  spreads  his  plumage  in  sight  of  the 
female,  calls  her  with  wooing  notes,  fights  his  rivals 
with  her  favor  as  the  stake,  and  by  every  means  strug- 
gles to  secure  respect  from  his  own  and  approval  from 
the  other  sex.  The  long,  exacting  process  of  natural 
selection  has  perpetuated  those  types  which  succeeded 
best  in  securing  these  good  opinions.  The  animal 
world  is  perpetuated  by  the  individuals  strongest, 
most  clever,  and  most  resourceful  in  gaining  favorable 
attention  and  in  avoiding  neglect  and  disdain.  The 
male  is  not  alone  in  bidding  for  notice,  though  the 
female  employs  quite  different  means.  She  strives  for 
effect  by  modesty,  coyness,  coquetry,  pretended  flight 
and  other  arts  which  induce  excitement  in  the  male. 
Her  welfare  also  depends  upon  making  an  impression : 
therefore  her  happy  song  when  successful,  and  her 
plaintive  note  or  silence  in  defeat. 

Among  savages  the  most  powerful  means  of  en- 
forcing social  customs  is  the  ridicule  and  contempt 
visited  upon  those  who  depart  from  the  fashions.  The 
boy  or  man  who  shows  himself  effeminate  is  called  a 
woman,  and  often  is  consigned  to  the  women's  quar- 
ters for  menial  service.  It  is  the  brave,  hardy,  master- 
ful man  who  wins  applause  from  men  and  favors  from 
women.  The  ambition  of  the  savage  youth  is  to  kill 
his  enemy  in  battle,  to  be  successful  in  the  hunt,  and 
by  strategy  or  skill  to  render  notable  aid  to  his  tribe: 
and  the  moving  desire  of  his  heart  in  these  things  is  for 
social  recognition.  "The  Kite  Indians  have  a  society 
pf  young  men  so  brave  and  so  ostentatious  of  their 

224 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

bravery  that  they  will  not  fight  from  cover  nor  turn 
aside  to  avoid  running  into  an  ambuscade  or  a  hole  in 
the  ice.  The  African  has  the  privilege  of  cutting  a 
gash  six  inches  long  in  his  thigh  for  every  man  he  has 
killed.  The  Melanesian  who  is  planning  revenge  sets 
up  a  stick  or  stone  where  it  can  be  seen;  he  refuses  to 
eat,  and  stays  away  from  the  dance;  he  sits  silent  in 
the  council  and  answers  questions  by  whistling,  and 
by  other  signs  draws  attention  to  himself,  and  has  it 
understood  that  he  is  a  brave  and  dangerous  man,  and 
that  he  is  biding  his  time." 
<  G.  Stanley  Hall  has  shown  in  detail  the  develop- 
ment of  self-consciousness,  vanity,  affectation,  and 
the  inclination  to  show  off  among  the  youth  of  civil- 
ized society.  Dress  gains  new  interest.  "The  boy  sud- 
denly realizes  that  his  shoes  are  not  blacked,  or  his 
coat  is  worn  and  dirty,  his  hair  unbrushed,  his  collar, 
necktie,  or  cap  not  of  the  latest  pattern,  while  girls 
love  to  flaunt  new  fashions  and  color  combinations, 
and  have  a  new  sense  for  the  toilet."  Manners  also 
afford  opportunity  for  expression  of  the  new  self- 
consciousness  and  means  of  bidding  for  good  opinion. 
There  is  pleasure  in  playing  roles,  assuming  poses, 
cultivating  moods,  modifying  one's  speech  in  pro- 
nunciation, choice  of  words,  and  often  in  imitation  of 
the  vocabulary  of  favorite  companions  or  teachers. 
Athletic  feats,  pride  in  physical  development,  trials 
of  strength  and  absorbing  interest  in  their  "records" 
characterize  boys  in  this  epoch.  The  emotions  of 
anger,  fear,  and  pity  are  intensified,  and  relate  to  a 
much  wider  range  of  situations,  particularly  to  those 
of  personal  relations. 

225 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

So  deep  and  pervasive  is  this  instinctive  regard  for 
the  opinion  of  others  that  it  remains  vivid  and  exces- 
sive in  after  life.  Fear  of  what  the  neighbors  will  say, 
the  desire  to  see  one's  name  in  print,  the  constant  and 
unflagging  care  of  personal  appearance,  feeling  for 
one's  social  standing,  and  awareness  of  all  the  little 
nothings  by  which  the  social  self  is  seen  to  wax  or 
wane,  the  nervousness  which  precedes  and  follows 
social  functions,  are  evidences  of  the  domination  of 
non-rational, instinctive  forces.  "We  are  unduly  inter- 
ested when  we  hear  that  others  have  been  talking 
about  us;  we  are  annoyed,  even  furious,  at  a  slight 
criticism,  and  are  childishly  delighted  by  a  compli- 
ment (without  regard  to  our  deserts);  and  children 
and  adults  alike  understand  how  to  put  themselves 
forward  and  get  notice,  and  equally  well  how  to  get 
notice  by  withdrawing  themselves  and  staying  away 
or  out  of  a  game.  ...  All  of  this  seems  to  indicate 
that  there  is  an  element  in  sensibility  not  accounted 
for  on  the  exploit  or  food  side,  and  this  element  is,  I 
believe,  genetically  connected  with  sexual  life.  Unlike 
the  struggle  for  existence  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
phrase,  the  courtship  of  the  sexes  presents  a  situation 
in  which  an  appeal  is  made  for  the  favor  of  another 
personality,  and  the  success  of  this  appeal  has  a  sur- 
vival value  —  not  for  the  individual  but  for  the 
species  through  the  individual."  Professor  Thomas 
expresses  the  conviction,  therefore,  "that  we  are  justi- 
fied in  concluding  that  our  vanity  and  susceptibility 
have  their  origin  largely  in  sexual  life,  and  that,  in 
particular,  our  susceptibility  to  the  opinion  of  others 

226 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

and  our  dependence  on  their  good  will  are  genetically 
referable  to  sexual  life."  ^ 

It  should  be  possible  to  make  clear,  in  the  light  of 
the  foregoing,  just  what  is  meant  by  the  relation  of 
the  religious  consciousness  to  the  sexual  instinct.  It  is 
held  that  sensitiveness  to  the  opinion  of  others  springs 
directly  from  the  impulse  underlying  courtship  be- 
tween the  sexes,  and  that  this  sensitivity  is  the  basis 
and  safeguard  of  social  relations.  It  is  this  regard  for 
the  opinion  of  others  which  makes  one  amenable  to 
the  customs  of  society,  and  brings  one  into  relation  and 
cooperation  with  the  conventions,  fashions,  duties, 
and  ideals  of  society.  Without  this  susceptibility  to 
the  opinion  and  example  of  others  one  is  lacking  in  the 
essential  quality  of  sociability.  He  is  unresponsive  to 
class  restraints  or  stimuli,  and  shares  to  a  degree  the 
irresponsible  and  anti-social  attitude  of  the  criminal. 
The  sexual  instinct  radiates  this  sympathetic,  unifying 
disposition  which  produces  groups  for  intimate  asso- 
ciation and  mutual  support.  It  is  the  source  of  the 
notable  gregariousness  of  mankind.  As  it  gives  rise  to 
larger  groups,  it  becomes  idealized  in  the  relations  of 
blood  brotherhood  among  savages  and  in  the  societies 
of  fraternity  and  practical  endeavor  among  civilized 
peoples. 

These  groups  continue  to  employ  the  technique  of 
the  sexual  life.  They  appeal  to  the  individual  for  his 
favor  much  after  the  method  of  courtship,  and  the 
individual  is  moved  to  respond  by  similar  reactions. 
When  the  nation  seeks  volunteer  recruits  for  its  army 
and  navy,  it  displays  before  the  youth  attractive  pic- 

*  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  p.  113. 
227 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tures  of  military  life,  of  uniforms,  brilliant  regiments, 
exploits  of  adventure  and  travel.  The  appeal  is  made 
through  parades  of  picked  soldiers,  marching  to  stir- 
ring music,  applauded  by  admiring  spectators.  Even 
the  suggestion  of  danger  on  the  battlefield  is  a  claim 
upon  the  valor  and  gallantry  which  the  republic,  sym- 
bolized by  a  female  figure,  demands  of  her  lovers 
among  brave  youth.  The  same  technique  of  display, 
invitation,  coyness,  and  modesty  appears  upon  a  vast 
scale  when  one  nation  visits  another  with  a  fleet  of 
ships  or  entertains  her  visitors  at  a  magnificent 
"world's  exposition."  The  etiquette  of  nations  is 
built  upon  the  manners  of  my  lady's  drawing  room, 
even  more  than  upon  the  caution  and  suspicion  with 
which  strangers  and  enemies  approach  each  other. 

The  type  of  social  adjustment  characteristic  of  the 
sexes  is  still  more  obvious  in  religious  groups,  and  in 
the  means  used  by  such  groups  to  win  the  devotion  of 
individuals.  Among  the  members  of  a  religious  body 
there  exist  ties  of  spiritual  kinship  supported  by  the 
strongest  sentiments.  The  phraseology  in  Christian 
Churches  is  that  of  the  family.  The  Church  is  the 
bride  of  Christ.  The  members  are  children  of  God; 
brothers  and  sisters  to  each  other.  They  are  born  into 
this  spiritual  family,  having  been  conceived  by  the 
Holy  Spirit.  Love  is  the  pervading  bond  in  all  these 
relations.  The  virtues  of  Christian  character  are  those 
which  spring  from  love:  sympathy,  patience,  forgive- 
ness, fidelity,  self-sacrifice,  charity.  The  emotional 
attitudes  aroused  by  the  services  of  the  churches  are 
the  tender,  melting  moods  in  which  the  will  acquiesces 
in  the  appeal  for  love  and  comradeship. 

228 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

The  derived  character  of  the  technique  by  which 
rehgion  makes  its  appeal  to  the  individual  is  in  keep- 
ing with  the  organizing  principle  of  religious  groups. 
Professor  Thomas  has  aptly  described  this  process. 
"The  appeal  made  during  a  religious  revival  to  an 
unconverted  person  has  psychologically  some  resem- 
blance to  the  attempt  of  the  male  to  overcome  the 
hesitancy  of  the  female.  In  each  case  the  will  has  to 
be  set  aside,  and  strong  suggestive  means  are  used; 
and  in  both  cases  the  appeal  is  not  of  the  conflict 
type,  but  of  an  intimate,  sympathetic  and  pleading 
kind.  In  the  effort  to  make  a  moral  adjustment,  it 
consequently  turns  out  that  a  technique  is  used  which 
was  derived  originally  from  sexual  life,  and  the  use,  so 
to  speak,  of  the  sexual  machinery  for  a  moral  adjust- 
ment involves,  in  some  cases,  the  carrying  over  into 
the  general  process  of  some  sexual  manifestations. 
The  emotional  forms  used  and  the  emotional  states 
aroused  are  not  entirely  stripped  of  their  sexual 
content."  ^ 

This  controlling,  organizing  instinct  which  emerges 
with  full  power  in  adolescence  is  accompanied  by  an 
awakening  of  mental  life  on  every  side.  The  senses 
become  more  acute;  the  imagination  is  developed  in 
new  directions,  wdth  a  scope  and  energy  which  often 
overwhelm  the  youth  in  a  confusion  of  aspirations  and 
longings;  the  will,  in  the  form  of  urgent  ambitions,  is 
roused  to  resolve  upon  great  enterprises  such  as  pa- 
triotic service  and  social  reforms;  the  intellect  is  stimu- 
lated to  great  activity,  to  criticism,  analysis,  careful 
reasoning  and  often  to  constructive  production.  It  is 
^  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  pp.  115  f. 

229 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

therefore  the  period  of  ideahsm,  the  age  in  which  the 
ends  set  up  for  attainment  are  remote  and  vast.  These 
ends  are  also  ideal  in  the  sense  of  being  altruistic  and 
disinterested.    The  same  disregard  of  mere  personal 
comfort  or  success  which  leads  the  youth  to  give  him- 
self with  such  abandon  to  win  a  lady's  hand,  is  shown 
in  devotion  to  other  interests  in  which  his  will  is  once 
enlisted.    The  statistics  concerning  the  aspirations  of 
youth  show  that  the  tendency  to  go  outside  personal 
knowledge  and  choose  historical  and  public  characters 
as  ideals  is  greatly  augmented  at  puberty,  when  also 
the  heroes  of  philanthropy  show  marked  gain  in  pro- 
minence.^   Earl    Barnes  remarks  significantly,   "No 
one  can  consider  the  regularity  with  which  local  ideals 
die  out  and  are  replaced  by  world  ideals  without  feel- 
ing that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  law-abiding  forces." 
Dr.  Thurber's  replies  from  thousands  of  children  in 
New  York  with  reference  to  what  they  wanted  to  do 
when  grown  showed  that  "the  desire  for  character 
increased  throughout,  but  rapidly  after  twelve,  and 
the  impulse  to  do  good  to  the  world,  which  had  risen 
slowly  from  nine,  mounted  sharply  after  thirteen." 
From  his  survey  of  many  investigations,  G.  Stanley 
Hall  concludes  that  with  reference  to  the  choice  of 
ideals  during  childhood  and   youth,   "Civic  virtues 
certainly  rise;  material  and  utilitarian  considerations 
do  not  seem  to  rise  much,  if  at  all,  at  adolescence, 
and  in  some  data  decline.  Position,  fame,  honor,  and 
general  greatness  increase  rapidly,  but  moral  qualities 
rise  highest  and  also  fastest  just  before  and  near 

1  G.  S.  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  387,  summarizes  studies  by 
Thurber,  Earl  Barnes,  Kline. 

230 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

puberty,  and  continue  to  increase  later  yet.  By  these 
choices  both  sexes,  but  girls  far  most,  show  increasing 
admiration  of  ethical  and  social  qualities."  ^ 

By  reason  of  instinctive  awakening  to  the  larger 
social  interests,  and  by  virtue  of  greater  mental  power 
for  forming  and  following  comprehensive  ideals,  youth 
is  the  period  for  the  choice  of  life-occupations,  for  the 
development  of  patriotism,  zeal  for  social  reforms, 
and  religious  enthusiasms.  At  this  age  the  whole  nature 
is  full  of  energy  which  creates  boundless  faith  in  the 
possibility  of  wonderful  achievements.  Idealism,  in 
the  strict  psychological  sense,  that  is,  vital  interest  in 
distant  and  difficult,  even  Utopian  humanitarian  enter- 
prises, is  natural  to  this  age.  There  is,  therefore,  great 
enthusiasm  for  heroes,  patriots,  and  religious  leaders. 
It  is  the  time  when  youth  enlist  in  the  army,  when  they 
devote  themselves  to  social  service,  to  foreign  mis- 
sions, and  to  philanthropy  and  charity.  There  are 
important  variations  from  this  general  tendency  of 
adolescent  development  which  need  to  be  kept  in 
view.  For  one  thing  it  should  be  said  that  the  natural 
impulses  of  adolescence  eventuate  in  ideal,  social  in- 
terests where  the  environment  and  training  are  such 
as  to  encourage  that  development.  But  not  every 
youth  is  afforded  the  larger  outlook  upon  life.  Many 
do  not  get  acquainted  with  the  great  characters  of  the 
race,  and  with  the  social  ideals  of  their  time.  Thev 
may  be  children  of  illiterate  parents  whose  world  is 
small  and  barren;  or  they  may  be  the  children  of 
well-to-do  but  uncultivated  families  lacking  in  seri- 
ousness of  purpose  and  a  sense  of  social  obligations. 
^  G.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  392. 

231 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

Within  the  middle  class  there  is  often  an  excess  of 
worldly  prudence  which  fills  youth  with  desire  for 
wealth  and  power  for  selfish  ends.  When  these  facts 
are  considered  it  is  evident  that  the  naturally  altruis- 
tic and  social  impulses  of  adolescents  must  be  inher- 
ently powerful  to  be  as  prevalent  and  fruitful  as  they 
are.  It  is  also  true  that  much  social  enthusiasm  spends 
itself  in  sentimentality  and  in  other  fruitless  ways  be- 
cause it  lacks  wise  guidance  and  the  objectifying  aids 
of  social  institutions.  Many  productive  efforts  are  being 
made  through  public  schools,  social  settlements,  and 
other  agencies  to  furnish  all  classes  of  youth  contact 
with  the  social  institutions  about  them.  It  cannot, 
therefore,  be  considered  a  refutation  of  the  claim  that 
youth  is  naturally  susceptible  to  the  appeal  of  religion 
considered  as  the  inmost  phase  of  the  social  conscious- 
ness, to  say  that  the  majority  of  youth  do  not  become 
identified  with  the  churches  in  protest  ant  countries 
where  attachment  is  voluntary.  This  may  mean  that 
religion  does  not  secure  an  opportunity  to  present  its 
claims  fairly,  that  it  does  not  have  the  adequate  co- 
operation of  the  home  and  the  school.  Or  it  may  mean 
that  religion  has  become  conventionalized  and  formal- 
ized upon  the  basis  of  archaic  or  partial  views  of  life 
in  a  way  which  does  not  relate  it  to  the  activities  and 
ideals  which  constitute  for  the  youth  of  the  times  the 
essential  social  consciousness.  Psychology  does  not 
posit  an  innate  religious  consciousness  whose  mani- 
festation is  inevitable  any  more  than  it  posits  an  art 
consciousness  which  produces  artists  regardless  of 
environment  or  training.  But  psychology  does  permit 
the  statement  that  man  is  disposed  to  social  relation- 

232 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

ships,  especially  in  the  period  of  adolescence,  and  that 
with  opportunities  to  do  so,  he  naturally  participates 
in  communal  activities,  including  those  of  religion.  If 
normal  persons  do  not  respond  to  religion  during 
adolescence  it  must  be  due  either  to  defects  in  existing 
religious  institutions  or  to  failure  to  estimate  them 
properly.  The  very  general  current  criticisms  of  the 
religion  which  is  popularly  taught,  and  particularly 
of  the  methods  employed  in  religious  instruction,  may 
therefore  be  taken  as  explanations  of  the  fact  that 
many  persons  do  not  appear  to  be  religious  according 
to  conventional  standards.  But  there  is  reason  also 
to  believe  that  religion  is  far  more  vital  in  human 
experience  than  present  statistics  indicate. 

Another  set  of  facts  which  makes  the  expression  of 
religion  less  simple  and  uniform  than  might  be  ex- 
pected is  the  hesitancy,  struggle,  and  confusion  which 
the  young  person  frequently  experiences  in  reference 
to  the  whole  subject.  Adolescence  is  an  epoch  of  rapid 
development.  The  individual  becomes  conscious  of 
complex,  established  social  interests  which  confront 
him  with  more  or  less  strangeness  and  peremptoriness. 
His  mental  powers  are  alert.  He  has  begun  to  analyze 
and  question  for  himself.  He  labors  to  maintain  his 
personality  in  relation  to  the  life  about  him.  He  is  not 
disposed  to  surrender  his  judgment  or  his  will.  He 
seeks  to  find  relations  in  which  he  can  realize  himself 
in  company  with  others,  and  do  so  with  intellectual 
wholeness  and  self-respect.  He  is  impelled  to  an 
altruism  which  is  also  self-realization.  He  is  likely  on 
this  account  to  have  many  doubts  and  to  question  the 
whole  system  of  ideas  and  practices  of  the  social  order, 

233 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

particularly  if  these  are  not  readily  and  enthusiastic 
cally  accepted  by  his  companions  or  by  those  from 
whom  he  takes  his  cues  for  action.  Social  groups, 
religious  and  secular,  are  usually  controlled  by  custom 
and  authority.  They  make  their  appeal  in  terms  of 
their  age  or  prestige  or  of  their  special  possession  of 
revelation  and  "truth."  They  solicit  a  personal  atti- 
tude of  companionship,  loyalty,  and  uncritical  accept- 
ance. But  wherever  there  is  richness  and  largeness  of 
environment,  the  individual  is  summoned  by  many 
such  groups,  and  is  therefore  likely  to  become  hesitant 
and  confused,  and  to  question  and  inquire.  But  the 
social  group  has  sprung  from  the  instinct  of  gregarious- 
ness,  and  has  been  continued  by  imitation  and  social 
compulsion.  The  doubter,  who  demands  reasons  for 
his  alliances,  therefore  challenges  the  group  to  an  un- 
natural and  unaccustomed  defense.  From  the  stand- 
point of  the  group,  he  appears  unsympathetic.  If  he 
had  the  spirit,  the  sacred  or  holy  spirit,  which  pervades 
the  group,  he  would  not  question  its  right  and  its 
claim,  but  would  sympathetically  submit  to  it.  Re- 
ligious groups  have  usually  shown  this  intolerance  of 
dissenters  and  doubters,  and  have  demanded  complete 
submission  and  surrender.  In  modern  society,  where 
education  and  science  train  the  vouth  in  observation 
and  in  methods  of  independent  judgment,  there  is  an 
increased  tendency  to  react  against  social  groups  which 
represent  themselves  as  necessary  to  the  individual  and 
yet  refuse  to  justify  such  claims  in  a  rational  way.  The 
individual  is  none  the  less  social,  none  the  less  impelled 
to  respond  to  the  supreme  values  which  society  affords. 
He  is  only  seeking  social  and  religious  expression  in 

234 


RELIGION  AND  ADOLESCENCE 

ways  which  enlist  his  fullest  loyalty,  loyalty  of  mind  as 
well  as  heart.  Such  persons  sometimes  find  their  way, 
suddenly,  through  an  emotional  experience,  or  gradu- 
ally, through  reflection  and  suggestion,  into  a  religious 
society.  But  often  they  continue  outside  the  conven- 
tional organizations,  perhaps  with  conscious  compan- 
ionship among  other  types  of  persons  and  ideals,  or,  it 
may  be,  with  waning  interest  in  any  such  ideal  asso- 
ciations. These  various  types  of  persons  and  their 
experiences  in  effecting  social  adjustments  or  failing 
to  do  so  will  be  considered  in  the  following  chapters. 
The  study  of  adolescence  has  yielded  the  assurance 
that  it  is  the  normal  period  for  the  rise  of  religion  in 
the  individual.  This  is  directlv  associated  with  the 
fact  that  the  most  fundamental  characteristic  of  ado- 
lescence is  the  maturing  of  the  sexual  instinct.  Out 
of  this  instinct  spring  the  sympathetic  social  ties 
which  are  so  essential  to  religion.  The  same  impulse 
which  impels  to  the  union  of  individuals  in  court- 
ship is  carried  over  into,  the  comradeship  and  brother- 
hood of  families,  clans,  nations,  and  races.  The  same 
technique  which  characterizes  the  individual  adjust- 
ments marks  the  union  of  groups,  and  is  employed 
by  society  in  winning  the  individual  to  its  support. 
Religion  as  a  social  phenomenon  is  therefore  not  a 
perversion  of  the  sexual  instinct,  but  involves  a  com- 
plex and  ideal  development  of  that  instinct.  Whether 
specific  normal  individuals  become  truly  social  and 
religious  depends  upon  the  way  in  which  their  in- 
stinctive adolescent  impulses  are  mediated  by  their 
environment  and  education. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NORMAL   RELIGIOUS   DEVELOPMENT 

All  authorities  agree  that  the  normal  rehgious 
development  of  adolescence  is  one  of  gradual  growth, 
including  also  what  has  been  discussed  by  some  as 
spontaneous  awakening.  In  contrast  to  this,  those 
experiences  comprehended  under  the  term  conversion, 
such  as  intense,  sudden  emotional  changes  induced  by 
manipulation,  are  regarded  as  abnormal.  The  word 
conversion  is  used  by  many  authors  in  two  senses.  In 
the  broader  meaning  it  designates  the  transition  from 
the  world  and  attitude  of  childhood  to  the  religious 
interests  of  maturity.  In  the  other,  it  signifies  the  sud- 
den, emotional  and  forced  transformations  which 
often  occur  in  "revivals."  G.  Stanley  Hall  has  the 
former  in  mind  when  he  savs :  "  In  its  most  fundamental 
sense,  conversion  is  a  natural,  normal,  universal,  and 
necessary  process  at  the  stage  w^hen  life  pivots  over 
from  an  autocentric  to  an  heterocentric  basis."  He 
further  remarks  that  as  civilization  advances  its  revo- 
lutions cease  to  be  sudden  and  violent,  and  become 
gradual  without  abrupt  change.  "The  same  is  true  of 
that  individual  crisis  which  physiology  describes  as 
adolescence,  and  of  which  theology  formulates  a  spir- 
itual aspect  or  potency  called  regeneration  or  conver- 
sion. True  religion  is  normally  the  slowest  because 
the  most  comprehensive  kind  of  growth,  and  the  entire 

236 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

ephebic  decade  is  not  too  long  and  is  well  spent  if 
altruism  or  love  of  all  that  is  divine  and  human  comes 
to  assured  supremacy  over  self  before  it  is  ended." 
"Conversion,"  writes  Starbuck,  "in  its  most  charac- 
teristic aspect  is  identical  with  such  spontaneous 
awakening  as  we  have  found  in  the  so-called  '  gradual 
growth'  type."  He  also  recognizes  upon  the  basis  of 
the  results  of  his  investigation  that  "it  is  doubtless 
the  ideal  to  be  striven  after  that  the  development  dur- 
ing adolescence  should  be  so  even  and  symmetrical 
that  no  crisis  would  be  reached,  that  the  capacity  for 
spiritual  assimilation  should  be  constantly  equal  to 
the  demands  that  are  made  on  consciousness." 

The  experience  of  Edward  Everett  Hale  is  fre- 
quently^ quoted  as  an  illustration  of  the  normal  grad- 
ual development  of  religion.  He  says:  "I  observe, 
with  profound  regret,  the  religious  struggles  which 
come  into  many  biographies,  as  if  almost  essential  to 
the  formation  of  the  hero.  I  ought  to  speak  of  these, 
to  say  that  any  man  has  an  advantage,  not  to  be  esti- 
mated, who  is  born,  as  I  was,  into  a  family  where  the 
religion  is  simple  and  rational;  who  is  trained  in  the 
theory  of  such  a  religion,  so  that  he  never  knows,  for 
an  hour,  what  these  religious  or  irreligious  struggles 
are.  I  always  knew  God  loved  me,  and  I  was  always 
grateful  to  Him  for  the  world  He  placed  me  in.  I 
always  liked  to  tell  Him  so,  and  was  always  glad  to 
receive  His  suggestions  to  me.  To  grow  up  in  this  way 
saves  boy  or  youth  from  those  battles  which  men  try 
to  describe  and  cannot  describe,  which  seem  to  use 
up  a  great  deal  of  young  life.  I  can  remember  per- 
fectly that,  when  I  was  coming  to  manhood,  the  half- 

237 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

philosophical  novels  of  the  time  had  a  deal  to  say  about' 
the  young  men  and  maidens  who  were  facing  the  '  prob- 
lem of  Hfe.'  I  had  no  idea  whatever  what  the  prob- 
lem of  life  was.  To  live  with  all  my  might  seemed  to  me 
easy;  to  learn  where  there  was  so  much  to  learn  seemed 
pleasant  and  almost  of  course;  to  lend  a  hand,  if  one 
had  a  chance,  natural;  and  if  one  did  this,  why,  he 
enjoyed  life  because  he  could  not  help  it,  and  without 
proving  to  himself  that  he  ought  to  enjoy  it.  I  sup- 
pose that  a  skillful  professor  of  the  business  could  have 
prodded  up  my  conscience,  which  is,  I  think,  as  sensi- 
tive as  another's.  I  suppose  I  could  have  been  made 
verv  wretched,  and  that  I  could  have  made  others 
very  wretched.  But  I  was  in  the  hands  of  no  such 
professor,  and  my  relations  with  the  God  whose  child 
I  am  were  permitted  to  develop  themselves  in  the  nat- 
ural way." 

Professor  James  quotes  similar  experiences  in  his 
chapter  on  the  religion  of  healthy-mindedness  to  show 
that  many  persons  seem  temperamentally  weighted  on 
the  side  of  cheerfulness  and  optimism.  They  succeed, 
like  Walt  Whitman,  in  deriving  great  pleasure  from 
ordinary  people  and  things,  and  in  avoiding  fretful- 
ness,  antipathy,  complaint,  and  remonstrance.  In 
fact,  the  latter  states  of  mind  are  not  simply  controlled 
or  suppressed,  but  seem  to  be  entirely  absent.  Where 
the  habit  of  emphasizing  the  good  and  ignoring  the 
painful  factors  of  experience  is  once  begun,  it  tends  to 
extend  itself  and  to  radiate  in  all  directions  through 
one's  life.  This  natural  tendency  of  the  habit  of  cheer- 
fulness and  evenness  of  temperament  is  also  reinforced 
by  the  biological  law  through  which    the  organism 

238 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

seeks  to  develop  all  pleasurable  experiences  and  to 
escape  or  minimize  all  painful  ones. 

In  the  responses  to  my  questionnaire  relating  to  the 
religious  experiences  of  childhood,  adolescence,  and 
maturity,  there  are  many  indicating  a  steady,  quiet 
development.  A  minister  writes,  "Home  influence  was 
religious,  with  definite  religious  instruction.  Sense  of 
sin  was  not  very  strong  at  that  early  age.  Later,  say 
from  eighteen  years  of  age  on,  a  sense  of  sin  led  to 
resolutions  to  be  more  moral.  Lived  a  rather  isolated 
life  on  a  farm,  was  a  nature  lover.  The  question  of 
joining  the  church  arose  upon  reflection  at  twenty- 
three  3^ears  of  age.    After  due  reflection,  while  living 

on  the  farm,  went  voluntarily  and  united  with  the 

Church  on  Sunday  at  regular  services.  Desiring,  after 
some  years,  to  preach,  and  being  unable  to  reconcile 

my  conscience  with  some  things  in  the Church, 

united  with  the ,  among  whom  I  have  preached 

regularly  ever  since.  Religious  development  has  been 
continuous  since  then.  In  choosing  occupation,  etc., 
always  acted  after  mature  reflection." 

One  womc^m  replied:  "No,  I  have  had  no  great 
struE^^le  over  decisions  at  anv  time  —  save  once,  when 
I  tried  to  force  myself  to  do  a  very  foolish  thing.  The 
really  great  decisions  of  my  life  have  been  very  easy 
to  make."    Another  woman  answered:  "I  joined  the 

church  very  early  in  life  because  I  was  made  to 

feel  that  I  must,  in  order  to  please  my  parents,  and  to 
save  my  soul.  It  arose  through  the  influence  of  my 
pastor,  teacher,  and  mother.  I  was  never  satisfied 
with  myself,  because  the  problem  was  not  as  intense  as 
I  constantly  saw  that  it  was  with  others.    I  do  not 

239 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

know  that  I  had  much  religious  development  until  I 
was  twenty -four  years  of  age.    I  accidentally  became 

interested  in  the church.  x\fter  uniting  with  this 

church  I  had  a  different  feeling  in  regard  to  everything 
religious.  Have  been  active  since,  and  have  enjoyed 
a  gradual  growth." 

'  Another  says:  "I  joined  the  church  at  twelve;  it 
was  hardly  a  question,  certainly  not  a  problem.  I  had  ^ 
always  considered  myself  a  child  of  God,  and,  when 
mother  decided  I  was  old  enough,  I  entered  the 
church  without  any  struggle.  It  meant  most  to  me  in 
that  the  ceremony  showed  publicly  that  I  was  a  Chris-  ' 
tian,  a  fact  of  which  I  did  not  want  others,  particu- 
larly children  of  my  own  age,  to  think  that  I  was 
ashamed.  My  religious  development  has  been  contin- 
uous since  then;  that  is,  it  has  been  definite  growth, 
without  intense  struggles."  j 

Probably  one  reason  such  cases  have  not  been  more 
frequently  reported  is  that  they  appear  uneventful 
and  perhaps  not  so  deeply  religious.  But  it  is  neces- 
sary to  include  within  the  normal  cases  also  those 
which  are  not  quite  so  smooth  and  painless.  The 
methods  and  atmosphere  of  the  liturgical  churches 
tend  to  gradual  growth,  but  there  often  occur  within 
them  very  pronounced  emotional  experiences.  A 
Catholic  child  upon  partaking  of  his  first  communion 
may  experience  as  intense  emotion  as  is  found  in  the 
converts  of  evangelical  churches.^  The  same  ten- 
sion is  also  found  among  those  initiated  into  savage 
tribes. 

In  the  records  I  have  gathered  there  are  many  which 

1  Geo.  A.  Coe,  The  Spiritual  Life,  p.  48. 
240 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

confirm  the  results  of  other  inquiries  relative  to  the 
unevenness  of  the  natural  development.  One  respond- 
ent savs:  "As  far  back  as  I  can  remember  I  was  inter- 
ested  in  the  church  and  its  prosperity,  never  thought 
of  myself  as  a  spectator  but  as  one  engaged  in  and 
partly  responsible  for  the  work.  This  was  the  family 
attitude.  Joined  the  church  at  about  the  age  of  eleven. 
Development  not  continuous.  Occasional  periods  of 
conscious  dereliction  and  of  indifference,  though 
chiefly  the  former.  After  entering  college,  I  was  pretty 
continuously  engaged  in  some  more  or  less  public 
religious  work,  and  the  feeling  of  responsibility  for 
this,  as  well  as  the  sense  of  the  need  of  consistency, 
usually  carried  me  along.  Had  many  times  of  inspira- 
tion and  high  resolve,  usually  coming  through  some 
speaker  or  some  book." 

An  interesting  illustration  of  recurring  impulses 
toward  larger  development,  continuing  through  sev- 
eral years,  appears  in  the  following:  "My  life  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  had  any  sudden  changes  or 
radical  awakenings,  though  there  are  in  it  a  number  of 
places  where  a  new  point  of  view  or  new  interest  has 
come  with  epoch-making  effect.  These  old  revivals  of 
Methodists  and  Baptists  undoubtedly  exerted  great 
influence,  set  up  new  ideals,  and  changed  me.  A  great 
Presbyterian  revival  after  I  had  joined  the  church  left 
a  lasting  impression.  A  sermon  by  Stalker  gave  me 
guidance  for  a  year  or  more;  lectures  on  Dante  at 
Johns  Hopkins  University,  a  stirring  week  with  F.  B. 
Meyer,  Northfield,  1892;  beginning  critical  work  in 
the  Old  Testament  under  Paul  Haupt,  each  of  these 
brought  such  an  awakening,  though  not  in  the  nature 

241 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE    ^ 

of  the  sudden  conversion  which  breaks  utterly  with 
the  past." 

The  following  extract  is  from  the  record  of  a  woman 
highly  trained  in  introspection.  She  joined  the  church 
at  nine  on  her  mother's  suggestion.  "Between  the 
ages  of  sixteen  and  seventeen,  I  had  an  awakening 
which  almost  amounted  to  a  conversion.  That  was  my 
first  year  in  college.  I  could  not  state  the  precise  day  or 
even  month,  but  it  was  due  to  the  religious  life  of 
Oberlin,  and  particularly  to  President  King's  training 
class.  Religion  became  a  much  more  personal  matter; 
it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  instead  of  '  trying  to 
be  good '  in  the  rather  hopeless  way  I  had  always  done, 
all  I  needed  was  to  love  God  and  'people'  so  intensely 
that  I  would  naturally  want  to  do  good,  and  would  n't 
have  to  worry  about  particular  actions.  I  do  not 
think  any  change  was  visible  outwardly.  But  in- 
wardly, everything  seemed  to  have  a  new  meaning.  I 
used  to  sit  by  the  open  window,  night  after  night,  after 
my  room-mate  had  gone  to  sleep,  praying.  God 
seemed  very  real.  A  new  love  of  people  took  posses- 
sion of  me;  I  don't  think  I  had  ever  before  cared 
deeply  for  any  one.  Now,  even  the  meanest  person 
seemed  wonderfully  significant,  simply  as  a  human 
being."  Two  years  later  there  was  another  "distinct 
emotional  awakening"  which  turned  upon  an  intense 
affection  for  an  older  woman.  The  two  finally  became 
close  friends.  "In  many  respects  it  was  like  a  religious 
awakening,  especially  in  its  sense  of  un worthiness." 

The  naturalness  and  normal  character  of  sudden 
awakenings  in  adolescence  is  accounted  for  by  the 
fact  that  at  this  time  there  is  such  a  transformation  of 

242 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

the  individual  through  radical  and  rapid  physical 
development;  and  so  pronounced  an  emergence  of  the 
sexual  instinct  with  its  intense  emotional  and  social 
elements.  This  wealth  of  energy  and  interest  is  not 
always  provided  by  early  training  with  models  and 
habits  which  allow  easy  and  frictionless  adjustment. 
In  many  individuals  the  sense  of  novelty  and  wonder 
amount  to  confusion,  hesitancy,  and  inhibition.  In 
this  state  a  slight  outward  circumstance  may  release 
the  tension  and  precipitate  into  clearness  and  order 
the  turbulent,  chaotic  inner  world.  In  such  solving 
moods  the  attention  is  narrowed  and  sometimes  filled 
by  quite  incidental  objects  or  events,  which  may  re- 
main vivid  in  memory  long  after.  The  senses  acquire 
unusual  sensitiveness.  Hallucinations  and  illusions 
are  frequent.  Voices  are  heard  and  visions  seen,  some- 
times in  but  this  single  instance  in  the  lifetime. 
These  easily  become  way-marks,  if  not  commanding 
and  guiding  moments  for  the  entire  after  life.  Modern 
psychology  recognizes  the  reality  and  even  the  nor- 
mality of  such  experiences,  but  it  does  so  simply  in  its 
effort  to  recognize  the  variety  of  temperaments  and 
processes  of  development  which  different  persons 
exhibit.  It  attaches  no  greater  value  to  one  type  than 
to  another,  unless  it  does  so  by  the  tendency  to  con- 
sider those  experiences  most  normal  in  which  there  is 
the  fullest  and  best  proportioned  functioning  of  all 
powers  of  the  mind.  It  is  from  this  point  of  view  that 
Professor  Coe  raises  the  query,  "Has  not  the  time 
come  when  we  should  frankly  and  persistently  deny 
that  the  culminating  type  of  religious  experience,  by 
which  all  other  types  are  to  be  judged,  is  a  state  in 

243 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

which  rational  self-control  lapses?"  This  question 
follows  the  observation  that  "  we  are  obliged  to  face 
the  fact  that  some  devoted  souls  appear  to  themselves 
not  to  have  experienced  any  such  personal  revelation. 
They  have  seen  no  visions,  heard  no  voices,  enjoyed 
no  ecstatic  communion,  received  no  inspirations,  been 
conscious  of  nothing  beyond  what  they  are  able  to 
classify  under  the  ordinary  workings  of  the  mind."  ^ 

That  these  spontaneous  awakenings  are  natural  and 
not  possessed  of  any  inherent  superiority  over  the 
more  prosaic  experiences  is  seen  in  similar  phenomena 
in  other  than  the  religious  sphere.  One  of  my  respond- 
ents writes:  "I  have  had  awakenings  other  than  reli- 
gious, that  is,  the  historical  conception  of  literature  was 
almost  an  awakening.  The  study  of  Browning  stirred 
me  more  deeply  than  most  religious  instruction  given 
directly.  The  poems  that  interested  me  most  were  the 
religious  and  ethical  poems  together  with  those  on  art 
subjects."  This  person's  ethical  development  was  of 
the  same  kind.  He  stopped  various  bad  habits  ab- 
ruptly —  swearing,  smoking  cigarettes,  and  drinking. 
Another  man  could  not  find  any  specialized  religious 
emotions  in  his  experience.  "I  have  never  experi- 
enced any  which  were  peculiar  to  any  part  I  ever 
took  in  religious  activity.  The  same  feeling  of  exhila- 
ration has  been  often  experienced  in  periods  of  excite- 
ment over  any  successful  outcome  and  in  cases  where 
I  appear  to  advantage,  such  as  a  good  run  in  football, 
a  good  hit  at  baseball,  a  good  recitation  at  school.  I 
can  experience  this  feeling  in  slight  degree  by  volun- 
tary imagery." 

1  G.  A.  Coe,  Religion  of  a  Mature  Mind,  pp.  232,  233. 

£44 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

An  illuminating  illustration  of  essentially  religious 
interest  and  enthusiasm  in  the  direct  relationship  of 
mutual  human  helpfulness  is  contained  in  the  last 
sentence  of  the  following  statement:  "I  did  much 
church  and  charity  work.  In  the  former  I  was  greatly 
hampered  by  my  lack  of  acquaintance  with  myself  and 
other  people;  I  had  to  learn  to  express  myself  in  deeds 
and  words  in  the  terms  of  ordinary  conventional  life, 
and  the  process  was  full  of  misunderstandings.  In  the 
latter  I  was  at  home  from  the  first,  and  I  had  an  almost 
pagan  delight  in  the  feeling  of  kinship,  w^hich  one  has 
with  all  classes  of  people  in  those  things  which  are  real 
to  them  —  usually  their  needs  or  their  work."  An- 
other woman  developed  a  somewhat  similar  experi- 
ence through  initiation  into  a  fraternal  order.  She  had 
joined  the  church  at  fifteen  under  the  influence  of  her 
mother,  but  was  not  very  enthusiastic.  "My  mother 
became  president  of  a  philanthropic  society,  com- 
posed of  members  of  the  Order  of  the  Eastern  Star.  I 
began  (about  the  age  of  eighteen)  to  see  what  the 
women  of  that  society  w'ere  doing,  and  saw  it  was  a 
good  work.  Now  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  did  I 
see  the  great  significance  of  a  religious  society.  My 
mother  said  nothing  of  joining  and  I  said  little.  Several 
nights,  however,  I  thought  of  the  wonderful  work  the 
order  was  doing,  and  after  some  contemplation  I 
decided  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  O.  E.  S.  I 
joined  the  Order.  The  initiation  ceremonies  could  not 
have  been  more  impressive;  I  felt  most  happy;  I  was 
overjoyed.  I  now  thought  I  knew  what  true  religion 
was." 

In  quite  different  fields  this  process  of  inquiry  and 

245 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

anxiety  often  issues  in  sudden  insight  and  reshaping  of 
interest  and  activity.  Starbuck  cites  the  fact  that 
the  athlete  "sometimes  awakens  suddenly  to  an  un- 
derstanding of  the  fine  points  of  the  game,  and  to  a 
real  enjoyment  of  it,  just  as  the  "convert  awakens  to 
an  appreciation  of  religion."  ^  William  Lowe  Bryan's 
investigation  of  learning  telegraphy  contributes  valu- 
able data  on  this  point.  He  found  that  before  facility 
is  attained,  there  is  a  long  time  in  which  the  efforts  of 
the  student  register  no  appreciable  gain.  "  Suddenly, 
within  a  few  days,  the  change  comes,  and  the  senseless 
clatter  becomes  intelligible  speech."  ^  Other  instances, 
analogous  to  spontaneous  religious  awakening,  are 
those  in  which  the  illumination  occurs  in  moments  of 
mental  leisure,  when  there  is  no  effort  or  anxiety  to  get 
the  result.  The  cases  of  Sir  William  Hamilton's  con- 
ception of  quaternions  and  Mozart's  composition  of 
the  aria  of  the  quintette  in  the  Magic  Flute  are 
well  known.  ^ 

The  process  of  gradual  growth  is  to  be  regarded, 
therefore,  as  inclusive  of  various  types.  These  de- 
pend upon  differences  of  temperament.  Persons  of 
phlegmatic  and  persons  of  mercurial  temperament 
naturally  react  differently  to  the  same  situations  and 
problems.  It  is  also  true  that  the  same  person,  in  dif- 
ferent stages  of  development,  in  different  states  of 
physical  energy,  and  in  varying  moods  will  not  be 
uniform  in  intensity  and  quality  of  experience.    Grad- 

»  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  385. 
»  "Studies  in  the  Physiology  and  Psychology  of  the  Telegraphic  Lan- 
guage," Psychological  Review,  January,  1897. 
'  Joseph  Jastrow,  The  Subconscious,  p.  95. 

246 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

ual  growth  is  not  to  be  conceived  as  an  absolutely 
regular  movement,  advancing  always  with  the  same 
measured  increment.  None  of  the  processes  of  nature 
conform  strictly  to  that  conception.  On  the  contrary 
there  are  in  all  biological  growth  rhythm,  period- 
icity, epochal  moments  and  level  planes.  Even  shocks 
and  crises  occur.  This  is  true  of  the  highest  forms 
of  human  development.  The  intellectual  and  the  es- 
thetic life,  the  attainment  of  skill  in  any  technique  of 
a  spiritual  as  of  a  practical  character  involve  some 
vibration  of  interest,  some  pulsation  of  attention  and 
emotion.  All  such  phenomena  have  a  legitimate  place 
within  the  natural  development  of  religious  life,  but 
they  do  not  justify  accentuation  of  the  crises  as  though 
they  possessed  extraordinary  value.  The  ideal  growth 
in  any  organism  is  that  which  maintains  propor- 
tion, fosters  adaptability,  and  affords  energy.  The 
ideal  religious  development  is  that  in  which  the  in- 
dividual progressively  participates  in  the  practical 
activities  and  ethical  consciousness  of  the  best  of  the 
race. 

The  psychology  of  growth  implies  the  operation  of 
the  educational  process.  It  is  the  very  nature  of  the 
educational  method  to  mediate  to  the  individual  the 
experience  and  enthusiasm  of  society  in  such  a  way 
that  he  lives  the  fullest  possible  life  of  which  he  is  cap- 
able at  each  stage  of  development.  The  educational 
process  is  in  principle  simply  the  furnishing  of  the 
natural  impulses  and  instincts  with  such  materials 
and  direction  as  are  suited  to  them  at  any  given  time. 
In  religion,  even  more  than  in  other  subjects,  it  is 
necessary  to  emphasize  the  protest  of  modern  educa-  i 

247 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tlonal  psychology  that  education  is  not  a  preparation 
for  Hfe,  but  that  it  is  rather  a  means  of  larger  life  at 
each  stage  as  it  unfolds.  Religious  education  not  only 
has  been  viewed  as  a  means  of  preparing  for  the  future, 
but  has  often  assumed  the  inadequacy  of  its  method 
in  two  other  respects.  Where  conversion  is  regarded 
as  the  great  point  in  individual  experience,  it  is 
usually  conceived  as  a  crisis  in  which  other  than  the 
normal  processes  of  educational  development  are  at 
work.  The  most  that  education  can  do,  then,  is  to 
lead  one  up  to  a  point  where  one  becomes  the  subject 
of  non-natural  influences.  It  follows  in  the  popular 
mind,  and  is  not  without  academic  endorsement,  that 
the  religious  experience  may  be  attained  without  the 
educational  process.  Nor  is  the  religious  experience 
discounted  by  seeming  to  occur  apart  from  such  pre- 
liminary training.  The  result  is  that  in  many  evan- 
gelical churches  the  work  of  the  church  school  is 
interrupted,  if  not  annulled,  by  "revivals"  and  "de- 
cision days,"  in  which  other  than  normal  educational 
influences  are  sought.  Membership  in  the  church  and 
the  democracy  of  its  personal  relationships  are  then 
based  upon  this  emotional  event,  rather  than  upon 
participation  in  the  practical  ideals  and  objective 
activities  of  the  organization.  It  is  important,  there- 
fore, to  consider  the  psychology  of  the  educational 
process  to  determine  whether  it  is  capable  of  foster- 
ing genuine  religious  experience  without  resorting  to 
some  additional  extraneous  agency. 

Another  consequence  of  this  widely  prevalent  no- 
tion of  religion  is  the  view  that  if  the  educational 
method  is  employed  for  the  advancement  of  religion, 

248 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

yet  only  a  certain  subject  matter,  such  as  biblical 
history  and  later  religious  biography,  should  be  used. 
Here  again  the  educational  process  is  in  theory  ab- 
stracted from  the  actual  religious  experience.  Educa- 
tion thus  becomes  a  vehicle,  indifferent  in  itself,  by 
which  the  quality  of  religion  is  somehow  transferred  to 
the  inquirer.  Because  of  such  supposed  uniqueness  of 
religion,  both  in  the  manner  by  which  it  is  limited  to  a 
given  historical  tradition  and  in  the  strange  method 
of  being  imparted  to  the  individual,  there  is  distrust 
and  inefficiency  in  the  use  of  religious  education.  So 
long  as  this  fallacy  persists  the  educational  process 
cannot  be  fully  accepted  as  the  instrument  of  reli- 
gious development.  It  is  the  task  of  the  psychology 
of  religion  to  discover  the  nature,  genesis,  and  devel- 
opment of  the  religious  consciousness,  in  terms  of  the 
mental  life  of  the  race  and  the  individual.  In  the  light 
of  its  results  it  may  determine  whether  the  educational 
process  is  the  natural  and  necessary  method  of  culti- 
vating religion  in  the  individual. 

The  results  of  our  study  have  indicated  that  religion 
arises  naturally,  being  an  inherent  and  intimate  phase 
of  the  social  consciousness.  It  is  not  within  the  intent 
of  this  investigation  to  estimate  the  differences  in 
value  between  the  religions  of  various  races,  but  it 
is  legitimate  to  note  the  fact  that  anthropology  and 
historical  science  do  not  show  any  fundamentally 
different  psychical  factors  in  different  religions.  Ra- 
ther does  it  become  apparent  that  there  is  a  striking 
similarity  in  their  underlying  patterns  and  in  their 
development.  The  differences  are  those  of  degree  of 
morality,  ideality,  and  method.  The  religion  of  a 
~  "^  249 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

people  is  a  reflex,  the  most  inward  and  revealing  re- 
flex, of  the  civilization  and  spirit  of  that  people. 
The  process  by  which  the  individual  comes  to  share 
in  the  religion  of  his  people  —  or  of  another  peo- 
ple —  is  just  the  process  by  which  he  enters  into 
and  becomes  dominated  by  the  civilization,  the  art, 
the  science,  the  social  ideals  of  that  people.  This  pro- 
cess is  that  of  education.  It  is  a  gradual  attainment, 
rising  in  adolescence  to  its  first  full  inwardness  in 
accordance  with  deep  grounded  laws  both  of  the  in- 
dividual [organism  and  of  the  social  body.  It  is  a 
psychological  fallacy,  which  has  borne  bitter  fruit,  to 
allow  the  point  where  this  tidal  movement  expands 
and  registers  itself  with  vivid  consciousness  for  some 
individuals  to  obscure  the  far  more  important  and 
permanent  processes.  These  underlying  processes  oc- 
cur for  many  persons  in  whom  they  never  create  acute 
and  revolutionary  states  of  consciousness,  and  it  is 
psychologically  untrue  and  unjust  to  exclude  such 
persons  in  theory  from  the  ranks  of  the  religious. 

The  psychology  of  the  religious  consciousness  is 
furnishing  religious  education  with  certain  general 
principles.  These  are  not  essentially  different  from 
the  principles  which  general  psychology  contributes 
to  pedagogy,  but  they  may  be  stated  in  terms  of  re- 
ligious experience.  First,  the  psychology  of  religion 
does  not  find  child  nature  irreligious.  It  condemns 
the  old  theories  of  natural  depravity  and  perversity. 
It  recognizes  the  spontaneous,  instinctively  selective 
activity  of  the  child.  This  activity  is  the  important 
thing  and  is  the  determining  factor  with  reference 
to  the  materials  needed  to  satisfy  it  and  the  influ- 

250, 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

ences  valuable  for  directing  it  to  fuller  self-reali- 
zation. This  insight  into  child  nature  emphasizes 
differences  of  temperament  and  energy.  One  sees  in 
groups  of  kindergarten  children,  and  even  in  the  nur- 
sery at  an  earlier  age,  variations  of  disposition.  Some 
are  quicker  in  reaction  to  suggestion;  some  reflect 
longer  and  more  aptly  upon  their  experiences;  some 
are  more  sensitive  to  companionship,  music,  rhythm,  or 
pictures.  A  set  of  little  children  displays  as  much  vari- 
ation as  the  same  number  of  adults  from  the  same  so- 
cial stratum,  and  the  children  are  less  habituated  to 
limited  types.  Religious  education  is  therefore  under 
obligation  to  respect  the  nature  of  the  child  and  to 
have  regard  for  the  individuality  which  it  possesses. 
The  latter  requires  individual  training  in  small  groups. 
Second,  the  education  of  the  child  must  be  more 
than  intellectual.  Perhaps  religious  training  is  not 
in  danger  of  exaggerating  the  intellectual  side,  but 
it  is  remarkable  how  much  attention  has  been  given 
to  imparting  knowledge  of  religious  books,  facts  of 
history  and  doctrine,  involving  memory  training 
chiefly.  The  child  is  open  to  indirect  influences  such 
as  those  of  example  and  surroundings.  By  these,  as 
well  as  by  music,  pictures,  games,  plays,  manual  work, 
caring  for  pets  and  aiding  others  in  real  tasks  in  the 
home  and  school,  he  gains  valuable  habits,  sympa- 
thies, and  a  sense  of  usefulness  which  are  real  factors 
in  education.  In  these  ways  his  emotions  are  more 
likely  to  grow  out  of  real  interests,  rather  than  to 
arise  as  detached  experiences.  The  latter  occurs  where 
the  training  has  been  bookish  and  abstract.  This 
formal  and  lifeless  mental  work  has  been  partly  re- 

251 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

sponsible  for  the  common  opinion  that  emotional  ex- 
periences, with  which  religion  is  too  often  identified, 
must  be  cultivated  apart  from  educational  processes 
and  by  some  other  method.  The  difficulty  arises  from 
a  narrow  and  partial  conception  of  education.  Where 
this  term  is  properly  used,  to  designate  the  enrichment 
and  enlargement  of  the  whole  nature,  it  is  understood 
to  involve  the  proper  exercise  of  the  will  and  emo- 
tions as  well  as  of  the  intellect.  Considering  education 
in  the  truest  sense,  the  individual  probably  derives  as 
much  of  it  from  the  informal  experiences  "out  of 
hours"  as  he  does  in  class  exercises  or  other  formal 
occasions. 

Third,  the  child's  interest  is  primarily  in  activities 
and  in  concrete  things  close  at  hand.  Much  of  the 
material  for  religious  training  must  therefore  be  found 
in  the  duties  and  companionships  of  the  home  and 
neighborhood;  in  the  movements  of  community  life 
affecting  its  health,  beauty,  and  safety;  in  the  festival 
occasions  connected  with  private  and  public  interests; 
and  in  the  services  of  public  leaders  whose  work  takes 
on  great  social  importance.  With  these  natural  in- 
terests, the  records  of  peoples  remote  in  time  and 
custom  may  be  easily  related,  but  psychologically 
these  records  are  only  means  and  instruments.  Their 
value  consists  in  the  degree  to  which  they  suggest  and 
cultivate  attitudes  and  tendencies  which  are  available 
in  the  present  concerns  of  life.  If  they  serve  to  show 
in  simple  form  social  processes  and  qualities  which 
have  now  grown  complex;  if  they  intensify  with  color 
and  ruggedness  the  story  of  moral  endeavor  and 
achievement  in  ways  which  appeal  to  the  child's  imagi- 

252 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

nation,  then,  they  are  valuable  educational  servants. 
The  phenomena  of  nature  also  become  aids  in  reli- 
gious training  by  their  relation  to  human  needs  and 
welfare.  Man  lives  close  to  the  soil  and  to  what  it 
produces.  His  social  activities  are  largely  those  con- 
cerned with  these  products,  and  these  processes  of 
nature  relate  to  past  ages  and  to  distant  suns  in  such 
a  way  that  the  profoundest  interests  of  the  race  are 
bound  up  with  them.  There  is  consequently  the  sense 
of  great  reality,  power,  law,  and  vast  proportions  in 
the  natural  environment.  From  the  earliest  myths 
to  the  highest  reflections  of  the  mind  this  realm  of 
nature  has  been  conspicuous  in  religion,  and  it  is  not 
diflScult  to  utilize  it  for  the  religious  development  of 
the  child. 

Fourth,  psychology  has  discovered  the  epochal, 
yet  continuous,  character  of  the  child's  development. 
While  the  period  of  adolescence  is  without  question 
the  time  at  which  the  religious  development  is  rapid, 
full,  and  vivid,  yet  it  is  not  lacking  in  earlier  years. 
The  presence  of  the  social  attitudes  of  sympathy, 
trustfulness,  and  cooperation,  though  in  slight  degree 
and  with  striking  unsteadiness,  proves  the  continuity 
of  religious  experience.  Genetic  psychology  here,  as 
in  other  interests,  teaches  respect  for  each  stage  of 
experience  as  possessing  its  own  level  of  achievement 
and  the  standards  by  which  it  should  be  cultivated. 
Thus  early  childhood  is  one  of  great  activity  and  imi- 
tativeness.  The  stories  dramatized  and  the  ritual 
imitated  may  not  have  any  ulterior  reference  in  the 
mind  of  the  child,  but  they  afford  an  immediate  and 
legitimate  satisfaction.   About  the  age  of  nine  there 

253 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

appears  keen  interest  in  picturesque  biography  and 
in  thrilling  events.  The  heroes  and  wars  of  migrations 
are  greatly  appreciated.  This  is  the  period,  up  to  the 
age  of  twelve,  of  habit-forming  and  of  maximum 
power  of  memorizing.  Perhaps  the  religion  normal  to 
this  period  may  be  characterized  as  that  of  forming 
the  habits  of  cleanliness,  industry,  honesty,  and  obedi- 
ence, and  of  memorizing  the  great  hterature,  poems, 
and  hymns  of  religion.  At  twelve  appear  the  pre-adoles- 
cent  social  impulses  which  make  membership  in  social 
groups  natural.  Altruistic  tendencies  manifest  them- 
selves in  this  social  interest  and  in  the  desire  to  turn 
one's  activity  to  account,  for  example,  in  making 
useful  objects.  And  here  is  begun  that  positive  con- 
structive process  of  moralizing  and  socializing  the 
individual's  experience  which  makes  the  following 
period  the  birth  time  of  the  new  and  larger  self. 
Psychology  therefore  does  not  need  to  impart  know- 
ledge of  these  processes  in  order  to  enable  education 
to  produce  them  in  individuals,  but  rather  to  make 
educational  methods  efficient  in  giving  richness,  sym- 
metry, and  freedom  to  adolescent  life  in  its  natural 
regeneration  or  "second  birth." 

Fifth,'  the  educational  process  is  one  which  psy- 
chology shows  to  be  possible  of  continuance  far  be- 
yond adolescence.  The  brain  power  does  not  begin 
to  diminish  normally  until  after  the  age  of  fifty -five. 
Many  individual  cases  of  mental  alertness  and  develop- 
ment beyond  that  age  are  well  known.  Gladstone  is 
an  example.  Continuous  mental  development  in  ma- 
turity may  be  said  to  be  determined  largely  by  the 
presence  or  absence  of  essentially  educational  influ- 

254 


NORMAL  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 

ences  such  as  new  stimuli,  change  of  environment, 
fresh  materials  in  tasks  and  thought.  The  attitude 
of  the  individual  is  also  a  contributing  factor.  If 
he  cultivates  expectancy,  disciplines  himself  to  new 
adjustments  and  keeps  his  powers  in  constant  use, 
his  development  is  more  likely  to  be  prolonged.  _, 
The  psychological  data  in  this  period  of  post-ado- 
lescent religious  experience  are  as  yet  entirely  inade- 
quate. The  study  of  religious  awakening  shows  that 
it  does  occur  in  some  instances  after  sixty,  and  in  a 
larger  number  of  cases  during  each  of  the  earlier  de- 
cades after  forty.  ^  Religion  in  the  process  of  gradual 
growth  is  psychologically  just  as  capable  of  extension 
and  enrichment  in  middle  life,  as  are  professional, 
business,  and  social  interests.  These  may  attain  al- 
most as  radical  and  vivid  a  character  as  the  adoles- 
cent experiences.  Tolstoy  at  the  age  of  fifty  passed 
through  three  years  of  storm  and  stress.  He  describes 
the  outcome  in  his  Confession.  "After  this,  things 
cleared  up  within  me  and  about  me  better  than  ever, 
and  the  light  has  never  wholly  died  away.  I  was  saved 
from  suicide.  Just  how  or  when  the  change  took 
place  I  cannot  tell.  But  as  insensibly  and  gradually 
as  the  force  of  life  had  been  annulled  within  me,  and 
I  had  reached  my  moral  death-bed,  just  as  gradually 
and  imperceptibly  did  the  energy  of  life  come  back. 
And  what  was  strange  was  that  this  energy  that  came 
back  was  nothing  new.  It  was  my  ancient  juvenile 
force  of  faith,  the  belief  that  the  sole  purpose  of  my 
life  was  to  be  better.  I  gave  up  the  life  of  the  con- 
ventional world,  recognizing  it  to  be  no  life,  but  a 

^  G.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence,  p.  289. 
255 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

parody  on  life,  which  its  superfluities  simply  keep  us 
from  comprehending."  ^ 

1  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  185.  The  phe- 
nomena of  "  sanctification  "  are  of  interest  in  this  connection.  These  do 
not  seem  to  involve  processes  radically  different  from  adolescent  awak- 
enings. Cf.  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  chapter  xxix. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CONVERSION 

In  contrast  to  the  normal  process  of  gradual  growth 
including  spontaneous  awakenings  are  the  phenomena 
of  conversion  in  the  narrower  use  of  the  term.  Conver- 
sion designates  the  more  sudden,  intense,  and  extreme 
emotional  experience.  It  is  the  result  of  immediate, 
direct  control  and  suggestion  on  the  part  of  evan- 
gelists, parents,  teachers.  It  is  common  among  cer- 
tain evangelical  protestant  denominations.  It  occurs 
chiefly  in  those  communions  which  have  cultivated 
an  elaborate  technique  to  produce  it.  Such  religious 
bodies  are  constituted  largely  by  persons  who  have 
themselves  experienced  religion  in  that  way  and  who 
therefore  naturally  value  it  highly.  The  liturgical 
cults  and  the  more  intellectual  churches  tend  to 
emphasize  gradual  growth  through  education  and 
ceremonies  of  confirmation.  These  ceremonies  are 
designed  to  give  recognition  to  the  attainment  of  reli- 
gious experience  as  much  as  to  induce  it.  Certain  tem- 
peraments experience  conversion  easier  than  others. 
The  racial  characteristics  of  some  nations  seem  to 
be  favorable  soil  for  it.  Professor  James  observes 
that  "on  the  whole,  the  Latin  races  have  leaned  more 
to  the  way  of  looking  upon  evil  as  made  up  of  ills  and 
sins  in  the  plural,  removable  in  detail;  while  the  Ger- 
manic races  have  tended  rather  to  think  of  Sin  in 
the  singular  and  with  a  capital  S,  as  of  something 

257 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ineradicably  ingrained  in  our  natural  subjectivity,  and 
never  to  be  removed  by  any  superficial  piecemeal 
operations."  The  latter  accordingly  have  prized  the 
profound  emotional  experiences  of  the  mystical  type. 

The  stages  of  the  process  of  conversion  are  just 
those  found  in  working  out  any  intense  problem 
under  pressure  —  first,  a  sense  of  perplexity  and  un- 
easiness; second,  a  climax  and  turning  point;  and 
third,  a  relaxation  marked  by  rest  and  joy.  It  is  not 
diflScult  to  induce  such  experiences  in  adolescence 
because  it  is  so  much  a  period  of  new  problems  and 
adjustments.  The  emotional  accompaniment  is  cor- 
respondingly marked,  and  greatly  heightened  effects 
are  secured  by  suggestions  which  add  to  the  tension, 
and  which,  at  the  same  time,  assure  the  subject  of 
the  great  spiritual  significance  and  value  of  such  ten- 
sion. 

The  first  stage,  the  one  in  which  the  person  feels 
keen  dissatisfaction  with  himself,  has  been  intensi- 
fied in  many  denominations  by  the  prevalent  doc- 
trine of  the  natural  sinfulness  of  human  nature.  Slight 
misdeeds  were  regarded  as  evil  not  merely  in  their 
own  character  but  especially  as  indications  of  the 
sinful  heart  from  which  they  sprang.  The  childish 
lie  or  cruel  act  was  a  surface  symptom  of  abysmal 
depths  of  iniquity  which  only  the  most  searching 
regeneration  could  eradicate.  It  is  a  common  char- 
acteristic of  puberty  to  be  hypersensitive  with  refer- 
ence to  its  faults.  Youth  is  liable  to  become  finical 
and  to  set  up  extreme  and  rigid  standards  for  puerile 
details.  Coe  cites  the  case  of  a  girl  about  twelve  who 
was  troubled  with  "over  nice  conscientiousness  about 

258 


CONVERSION 

stealing."  "She  would  not  take  so  much  as  a  pin 
without  permission,  or  if,  when  visiting  any  of  her 
friends,  she  found  it  necessary  to  take  one,  she  in- 
flexibly compelled  herself  to  tell  the  hostess,  saying, 
*I  took  one  of  your  pins.'  This  was  a  very  painful 
process  to  her,  though  she  did  not  see  the  absurdity 
of  it,  but  thought  she  was  merely  doing  her  duty."  ^ 
G.  Stanley  Hall  observes  that  "in  this  state  of  nerves 
and  moral  touchiness,  youth  often  grow  irritable  and 
have  bitter  and  long  conflicts  with  their  tempers. 
Fears  of  having  committed  the  unpardonable  sin, 
in  rare  cases,  become  tragic."  ^  It  is  of  course  not 
difficult  to  produce  an  intense  "conviction  of  sin" 
in  such  persons.  The  natural  division  of  the  self  is 
easily  widened  into  a  chasm  of  despair,  so  that  the 
subject  agonizes  over  his  lost  and  helpless  state. 
Starbuck's  cases  ^  show  that  the  central  fact  in  the 
consciousness  of  converts  is  the  sense  of  sin,  of  having 
a  "black  heart,"  "a  great  and  unaccountable  wretch- 
edness." They  are  marked  by  depression  and  sadness, 
by  self-distrust  and  helplessness,  by  estrangement, 
by  restlessness  and  anxiety.  In  many  instances  the 
strain  involved  loss  of  sleep  and  appetite,  ner^^^ousness, 
affection  of  the  sight,  hearing,  touch,  and  other  bod- 
ily functions.  This  state  may  continue  for  weeks  or 
months,  and  in  not  a  few  individuals  has  produced 
melancholia  and  insanity.  Adolescent  suicide  is 
sometimes  the  outcome  of  this  sense  of  misery  and 
gloomy  foreboding.    This  sense  of  sin  is  an  experience 

1  G.  A.  Coe,  The  Spiritual  Life,  p.  77. 

*  G.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence,  vol.  ii,  p.  348. 

*  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  chapter  v. 

259 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  pain  and  remorse.  "  It  pricks,  stings,  burns,  wounds, 
brings  restlessness  and  anxiety,  a  sense  of  oppression, 
as  under  a  heavy  load."  It  is  not  due  exclusively  to 
actual  sinfulness.  Those  who  are  relatively  innocent 
often  suffer  as  keenly  as  those  who  have  sinned  deeply. 
The  chasm  created  in  the  inner  nature  depends  for 
both  classes  very  much  upon  the  imagination  and 
sensitiveness  of  the  subject,  and  upon  suggestions  as 
to  how  one  should  feel.  The  qualms  felt  bear  no  de- 
finite relation  to  the  sins.  Starbuck  found  that  while 
the  sense  of  sin  follows  naturally  in  the  wake  of  evil, 
it  has  other  causes,  such  as  temperament  and  ill  health. 
Hysteria  and  other  nervous  and  circulatory  disor- 
ders are  common  causes.  He  found  that  among  those 
of  good  training  two  thirds  of  his  cases  experienced  a 
sense  of  sin,  due  doubtless  to  the  suggestion  that  they 
ought  to  feel  it.  In  this  way  the  normal  sensitiveness 
and  confusion  of  adolescence,  the  consciousness  of 
contrast  between  the  actual  and  ideal  self,  between 
the  subjective,  individual  self  and  the  great  organ- 
ized social  order,  is  increased  by  various  kinds  of 
pressure  to  the  abnormal  degree  common  in  the  con- 
viction period  of  conversion. 

The  second  moment  in  the  conversion  experience 
is  the  turning  point  at  which  the  tension,  confusion, 
and  strife  between  the  old  and  the  new  are  overcome. 
This  decisive  moment  is  the  culmination  of  a  posi- 
tive struggle  in  some  persons.  In  others  it  seems  to 
come  unexpectedly  in  moments  of  passivity  and  dif- 
fused attention.  It  is  the  moment  at  which  the  "hot 
spot"  or  focus  shifts  from  one  system  of  ideas  to  an- 
other, establishing  a  new  centre  of  interest  in  the  as- 

260 


CONVERSION 

sociative  processes  of  the  mind.  One  author  describes 
the  crisis  as  if  the  present  sinful  life  and  the  wished- 
for  righteous  one  were  pressed  together  in  intense 
opposition,  and  were  struggling  for  possession  of  con- 
sciousness. Relative  to  this  conflict  the  subject  him- 
self may  seem  a  passive  observer,  witnessing  within 
his  own  soul  the  conflict  between  the  good  and  evil 
spirits.  This  turmoil  is  resolved  in  a  great  variety 
of  ways.  In  those  persons  who  are  susceptible  of  au- 
tomatisms, and  who  have  been  taught  to  prize  such 
experiences,  the  decisive  moment  may  be  one  in  which 
involuntary  muscular  reactions  occur,  such  as  clap- 
ping the  hands,  uncontrolled  laughter,  shouting, 
gesticulations,  or  a  thrill  through  the  whole  body. 
In  great  revival  meetings,  under  the  contagion  of 
suggestive  examples,  many  strange  extravagances  — 
falling,  jerking,  jumping,  rolling,  barking  —  have  oc- 
curred. Striking  dreams  and  hallucinations,  particu- 
larly of  a  visual  character,  are  still  more  common. 
Professor  Coe  found  in  examining  several  persons 
with  reference  to  such  phenomena  that  those  who 
experienced  automatisms  in  religion  usually  had  also 
experienced  them  in  other  than  religious  situations; 
and  that  those  who  did  not  have  them  outside  of  re- 
ligion were  not  likely  to  undergo  them  in  conversion, 
no  matter  how  much  they  desired  it.  These  facts 
point  to  the  conclusion  that  the  automatisms  are 
matters  of  temperament,  and  have  no  religious  value, 
and  cannot  be  regarded  as  evidence  of  religious  de- 
velopment in  the  truest  sense.  They  are  psychologi- 
cally irrelevant  and  exceptional,  and  are  therefore 
abnormal  so  far  as  religious  awakening  is  concerned. 

2G1 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

It  would  be  equally  misleading  to  attach  special 
religious  importance  to  other  incidental  factors  through 
which  the  extreme  emotional  sensitiveness  of  the  con- 
vert may  happen  to  be  precipitated  into  the  new  state. 
The  singing  of  the  choir,  the  pleading  of  voices  in 
prayer,  the  sermon,  the  touch  of  a  friendly  hand,  a 
text  of  scripture,  memory  of  a  childhood  scene,  a 
glimpse  of  the  sunset,  the  sound  of  a  storm,  the  quiet 
of  the  forest,  the  silence  of  the  night  —  any  one  of  in- 
numerable experiences  or  images  may  fill  the  mo- 
ment in  which  the  die  is  cast.  Or  there  may  be  no 
such  discoverable  moment  at  all,  as  where  the  change 
takes  place  "while  asleep"  or  while  reading.  Even 
with  intense  conviction  of  sin  and  with  pronounced 
feelings  of  satisfaction  in  the  new  state  the  exact  point 
of  transition  may  not  be  localized  nor  identified  with 
specific  mental  content. 

The  crucial  moment  of  conversion  presents  two 
main  types,  self -surrender  and  active  effort  toward 
the  new  life.  The  attitude  of  self-surrender  seems 
many  times  to  result  from  fatigue  and  nervous  ex- 
haustion due  to  the  anxiety  for  one's  sins  or  to  the 
effort  to  resist  the  conviction  of  sin.  As  Professor 
James  expresses  it,  "Our  emotional  brain-centres 
strike  work,  and  we  lapse  into  a  temporary  apathy. 
Now  there  is  documentary  proof  that  this  state  of 
temporary  exhaustion  not  infrequently  forms  part 
of  the  conversion  crisis.  So  long  as  the  egoistic  worry 
of  the  sick  soul  guards  the  door,  the  expansive  con- 
fidence of  the  soul  of  faith  gains  no  presence.  But  let 
the  former  faint  away,  even  but  for  a  moment,  and  the 
latter  can  profit  by  the  opportunity,  and,  having  once 

262 


CONVERSION 

acquired  possession,  may  retain  it."  This  type  is 
more  common  in  extremely  sudden  and  intense  con- 
versions. That  of  active  effort  toward  the  new  life, 
where  one  breaks  through  into  new  insight  and  ad- 
justment, is  often  found  in  cases  of  normal  develop- 
ment, although  at  times  it  reaches  an  extreme  inten- 
sity. 

The  third  stage  is  physically  and  psychically  a  re- 
action from  the  previous  strain,  and  is  largely  deter- 
mined in  character  and  intensity  by  the  earlier  ex- 
perience. It  is  essentially  a  new  adjustment  which 
is  accompanied  by  the  emotions  belonging  to  harmony, 
victory,  a  release  from  tension.  This  harmony  may 
consist  in  the  sense  of  escape  from  sin  and  its  conse- 
quences, or  in  the  feeling  of  completeness  and  exalted 
personality.  The  emotions  are  largely  those  of  joy, 
peace,  happiness,  and  acceptance.  There  is  frequently 
a  sense  of  newness  or  purification  which  suffuses 
commonplace  objects  and  experiences  with  fresh  in- 
terest. One  says,  "I  wept  and  laughed  alternately. 
I  was  as  light  as  if  walking  on  air.  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
gained  greater  peace  and  happiness  than  I  had  ever 
expected  to  experience."  Another  says,  "There  fol- 
lowed a  delightful  feeling  of  reconciliation  with  God 
and  love  for  Him."  Where  the  pre-conversion  state 
has  been  the  conviction  of  sin  and  the  desire  to  rid 
one's  self  of  it,  the  post-conversion  state  is  more  pas- 
sive, and  its  joy  is  more  that  of  relief  and  safety. 
Where  aspiration  after  a  new  and  larger  life  has  pre- 
vailed, the  joy  has  an  active  quality,  a  sense  of  par- 
ticipation in  new  companionships  and  nobler  tasks. 
But  in  the  most  typical  conversion  experiences  all 

263 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

dissatisfaction  with  one's  self,  whether  in  reference 
to  evil  habits  chaining  one  to  a  bitter  past,  or  the 
sense  of  need  and  longing  for  greater  completeness  in 
the  future,  are  attributed  to  one's  sinful  nature.  In 
reference  to  this  sinful  nature  sorrow  and  travail  of 
soul  are  cultivated. 

It  has  been  found  that  conversions  vary  in  the  dif- 
ferent sexes,  ages,  and  temperamerits.  Among  females 
the  struggle  is  likely  to  be  less  prolonged  and  intense 
in  public  meetings.  This  indicates  greater  suggesti- 
bility, readier  response  to  social  pressure,  and  more 
extreme  emotionalism.  Females  have  more  intense 
and  longer  periods  of  struggle  where  they  endeavor 
to  work  out  the  problem  alone.  Males,  on  the  con- 
trary, resist  public  appeals  stubbornly  and  persist- 
ently. Their  intellectual  activity  is  more  in  evidence 
and  the  conflict  becomes  more  intense  in  revivals. 
In  private  the  process  is  easier.  This  difference  in 
the  sexes  is  probably  an  expression  of  fundamental 
biological  contrasts  which  show  woman  to  be  more 
passive  and  receptive,  more  subject  to  manipulation; 
while  man  is  active,  aggressive,  given  to  independence 
and  resistance.  He  submits  less  readily  to  authority, 
and  prefers  to  have  the  sense  of  reaching  his  own  con- 
clusions. This  individualism  tends  to  private  reflec- 
tion, and  is  inhibited  by  public  pressure  and  emotional 
appeals. 

In  regard  to  age,  adolescence  is  the  period  of  most 

conversions,  but  within    this  time    there  are  three 

points  at  which  the  phenomena  of  conversion  take 

on  different  aspects.    Starbuck's  tables  ^  seem  to  show 

»  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  57. 

264 


r 


CONVERSION 

that  at  the  age  of  twelve  the  greater  number  are  in- 
fluenced by  example  and  social  pressure;  that  is,  imi- 
tation is  most  conspicuous.  At  about  fifteen  or  sixteen, 
for  both  sexes,  conviction  of  sin  with  fear  is  domi- 
nant; while  at  about  eighteen  the  desire  to  follow  out 
the  moral  ideal  of  completeness  of  character  prevails. 

The  differences  of  temperament  pertain  largely 
to  susceptibility  to  suggestion  and  to  automatisms. 
It  is  of  great  importance  historically  that  the  apostle 
Paul  and  St.  Augustine  belonged  to  the  type  for 
which  the  extreme  form  of  emotional,  dramatic  con- 
version is  possible.  Their  personal  experience  has 
been  regarded  as  of  superior  value  because  it  has  been 
assumed  uncritically  that  their  moral  characters  and 
achievements  were  determined  by  the  manner  of 
their  conversion.  But  when  it  is  recognized  that  Paul 
was  probably  a  neurotic,  and  that  Augustine  was 
a  sensualist  with  a  highly  developed  nervous  tem- 
perament, it  becomes  apparent  that  there  were  very 
special  individual  reasons  for  their  dramatic  conver- 
sions. It  also  appears  that  the  forms  of  their  con- 
versions are  accidental  and  not  essential  in  spiritual 
development.  The  attempts  to  induce  that  type  of  ex- 
perience among  all  classes  of  persons  have  failed,  and 
such  failures  have  proved  not  the  depravity  of  the 
recalcitrant,  unresponsive  persons,  but  the  one-sided 
and  abnormal  character  of  the  cases  set  up  as  the 
standard.^ 

The  nature  of  the  conversion  experience  appears 

1  Frank  Granger,  The  Soul  of  a  Christian,  p.  76;  Royse,  "The  Psy- 
chology of  Saul's  Conversion,"  American  Journal  of  Religious  Psycho- 
logy and  Education,  vol.  i,  190-1. 

265 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

clearly  in  that  it  is  induced  through  the  manipulation 
of  natural  tendencies,  and  results  in  the  strained, 
partial,  and  abortive  issue  of  such  tendencies.  The 
fact  that  conversion  is  due  to  artificial  control  and 
forcing  of  natural  processes  is  definitely  recognized 
by  Starbuck.  "Theology  takes  these  adolescent  ten- 
dencies and  builds  upon  them;  it  sees  that  the  essen- 
tial thing  in  adolescent  growth  is  bringing  the  person 
out  of  childhood  into  the  new  life  of  maturity  and 
personal  insight.  It  accordingly  brings  those  means 
to  bear  which  will  intensify  the  normal  tendencies 
that  work  in  human  nature.  It  shortens  up  the  period 
of  duration  of  storm  and  stress,  but  they  are  very 
much  more  intense.  The  bodily  accompaniments  — 
loss  of  sleep  and  appetite,  for  example  —  are  much 
more  frequent."  ^  Instead  of  "theology"  it  perhaps 
should  be  said  that  current  religious  practice  in  many 
sects  is  the  instrument  for  working  these  results.  This 
practice  is  more  or  less  consciously  related  to  certain 
theological  presuppositions,  but  it  measures  itself  not 
by  its  theoretical  principles  but  by  its  ability  to  get 
results. 

The  most  common  methods  of  inducing  conversion 
are  those  of  the  revival.  Under  this  term  may  be  in- 
cluded the  evangelistic  sermons  of  pastors,  the  "  rally 
days"  of  Sunday  Schools,  and  the  exhortations  of 
"personal  workers."  These  are  usually  auxiliary  to 
the  revival,  but  are  also  employed  independently. 
The  process  of  suggestion  in  the  work  of  the  most 
expert  evangelists  is  begun  months  before  they  reach 
the  community  where  the  revival  is  to  occur.    They 

1  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  224. 

266 


CONVERSION 

send  advance  agents,  advertising  material,  and  direc- 
tions for  local  workers.  All  these  are  employed  to 
cultivate  expectation  and  to  fix  attention  upon  the 
revivalist  and  his  work.  An  important  factor  for  this 
purpose  is  the  recital  of  what  has  been  accomplished 
by  him  in  other  places.  The  longer,  more  varied  and 
better  known  his  record,  the  keener  is  the  interest 
in  his  appearance  in  the  community.  Even  the  dif- 
ference of  opinion  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  his  work  is 
an  aid,  since  it  provokes  discussion,  makes  his  mis- 
sion known,  and  stimulates  curiosity.  When  the 
revivalist  comes  he  gives  detailed  instructions  to  all 
workers,  especially  with  reference  to  creating  condi- 
tions under  which  attention  can  be  focused  upon  his 
mission  and  his  appeal.  As  many  religious  persons 
as  possible  are  urged  to  give  up  all  other  interests,  and 
to  think,  pray,  converse,  and  labor  only  for  the  *' sal- 
vation of  souls."  The  public  meetings  are  conducted 
with  scrupulous  care  to  the  fixation  of  attention  and 
to  the  cultivation  of  the  same  sentiments  and  emotions 
throughout  the  mass  of  the  people.  An  atmosphere 
of  group  consciousness  through  common  ideas  and 
concerted  action  is  thus  created  which  exerts  a  power- 
ful influence.  Several  services  may  be  held  before 
a  definite  "invitation"  is  given.  Those  who  are  ready 
to  declare  themselves  at  once  are  kept  from  doing  so 
until  enough  are  ready  to  make  a  more  profound  im- 
pression by  their  joint  action.  It  is  found  to  be  more 
telling,  for  example,  to  secure  fifty  public  confessions 
for  the  end  of  the  first  week  of  sustained  expectancy  ■ 
than  to  have  them  distributed  in  smaller  groups. 
The  service  is  begun  with  familiar,  pleading  songs 

267 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  prayers,  and  moves  suggestively  on  to  the  sermon. 
And  the  sermon  is  artfully  constructed  to  produce  the 
customary  responses  on  the  part  of  "seekers."  The 
sermon  is  hortatory  in  character,  and  is  delivered 
with  every  device  which  will  hold  attention;  sensory 
attention  being  quite  as  important  as  intellectual 
attention.  The  doctrine  preached  is  that  which  is 
current  in  the  popular  mind,  and  it  is  employed  as 
a  familiar  background  without  argument  or  logical 
presentation.  Revival  sermons  are  therefore  always 
theologically  conservative.  As  theological  opinion 
changes,  the  doctrine  of  evangelists  is  gradually  though 
tardily  readjusted.  Jonathan  Edwards  employed  the 
theology  of  the  older  Calvinism  and  appealed  to  the 
emotion  of  fear.  Dwight  L.  Moody  adopted  modified 
Calvinism  and  dwelt  upon  the  emotion  of  love  with 
its  radiating  forms  of  pity,  remorse,  self-sacrifice,  and 
devotion.  There  have  been  later  attempts  to  develop 
revivals  of  ethical  religion  in  response  to  the  newer 
doctrines  of  moral  and  social  philosophy,  but  these 
attempts  have  tended  to  make  clear  the  superiority 
of  the  method  of  education  to  that  of  conversion  for 
promoting  such  ideals.  There  are  now,  accordingly, 
numerous  efforts  to  substitute  educational  work  for 
revivalism.  This  is  notably  true  in  Mr.  Moody's  later 
work,  in  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association,  and 
in  the  increasing  effort  to  supply  the  Sunday  School 
with  the  means  and  methods  of  genuine  education. 
The  characteristic  revival  sermon  puts  the  commonly 
accepted  theological  notions  into  vivid,  stirring  im- 
agery and  into  appealing  stories  of  the  tragedies  of  the 
inner  life  as  they  occur  among  the  people.  It  employs 

268 


CONVERSION 

familiar  symbolism,  —  the  cross  and  crown,  heaven 
and  hell,  home  and  mother.  Reminiscent  associations^ 
are  employed  to  awaken  the  sense  of  lost  virtue,  of 
unforgiven  sins,  and  of  the  pleading,  persuasive  in- 
fluences once  effective  but  now  long  forgotten  or  re- 
sisted. The  main  themes  of  guilt  and  forgiveness  are 
thus,  with  all  these  accessories  of  suggestion,  affirmed 
and  repeated,  affirmation  and  repetition  being  in- 
dispensable in  producing  the  desired  result.  The 
speaker  is  dramatic  in  manner,  epigrammatic  and  col- 
loquial in  style,  rapid  and  impassioned  in  speech. 
Even  grotesque  and  startling  devices  are  effective, 
such  as  striking  the  pulpit  or  the  floor  with  the  hands, 
standing  on  chairs,  walking  through  the  audience 
while  speaking,  removing  one's  coat,  singing,  shout- 
ing, and  similar  various  sensational  feats. 

Another  powerful  agency  cooperates  with  the  ser- 
mon, songs,  and  prayers :  the  influence  of  the  crowd. 
The  whole  service  fixes  attention  upon  certain  ideas 
familiar  to  all  and  actively  assented  to  by  the  ma- 
jority in  such  religious  gatherings.  The  appeals  from 
the  pulpit  are  intensified  and  vibrated  through  the 
crowd  by  waves  of  feeling  and  subdued  response.  The 
process  of  radiation,  usually  quite  unconscious,  con- 
sists in  nodding  assent,  smiling  approval,  whispering 
catch-words,  sinking  into  intent  silence,  or  shouting 
"Amen!"  and  *' Hallelujah!"  There  is  something 
very  real  and  compelling  about  the  "strained  atten- 
tion," "bated  breath,"  and  "ominous  hush"  of  the 
crowd.  Few  persons  can  resist  the  social  pressure  thus 
generated.  The  effect  upon  most  people  is  to  reduce 
their  independence  and  to  impel  them  to  the  pre- 

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PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

vailing  sentiment  and  proposed  action.  This  becomes 
most  extreme,  and  the  suggestibiHty  and  demonstra- 
tive responsiveness  greatest  among  those  in  the  audi- 
ence standing  crowded  together  at  the  sides  or  in  the 
aisles.  The  variety  and  intensity  of  their  voluntary 
movements  are  greatly  inhibited  and  suggestion  is 
less  resisted.  "It  is  said  that  in  the  French  theatre 
of  the  old  regime  the  standing  portion  of  the  audience 
(pit)  was  always  more  emotional  and  violent  in  its 
demonstrations  than  the  sitting  portion  (parquet), 
and  that  the  providing  of  seats  for  the  pit  spectators 
greatly  quieted  their  demeanor."^  The  mass  of 
people  dominated  by  an  evangelist  acts  as  a  means 
of  multiplying  emotion  until  it  radiates  to  those  who 
are  indifferent  or  antagonistic  to  it.  Davenport  cites 
two  such  instances. 2  One  is  that  of  the  young  man 
witnessing  a  camp-meeting.  "He  had  had  no  reli- 
gious experience  and  at  that  time  did  not  wish  any. 
The  crowd  was  laboring  under  great  religious  ex- 
citement, and  reflex  phenomena  were  abundantly  in 
evidence.  Suddenly  my  friend  found  himself  with  his 
hands  pressed  against  his  lungs,  shouting  'Halle- 
lujah!' at  the  top  of  his  voice."  The  other  instance  is 
still  more  striking:  "The  old  tobacco  planters  in  the 
rear,  who  had  not  listened  to  one  word  of  the  sermon, 
displayed  tremulous  emotion  in  every  muscle  of  their 
brawny  faces,  while  the  tears  coursed  down  their 
wrinkled  cheeks."  The  whole  tendency  of  the  crowd 
influence  is  to  aid  greatly  in  fixing  attention  upon 
the  narrow  brightly  lighted  field  of  ideas  presented  by 

1  E.  A.  Ross,  Social  Psychology,  p.  44. 

«  F.  M.  Davenport,  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals,  pp.  226  f. 

270 


CONVERSION 

the  speaker;  to  magnify  many  fold  the  emotional 
stress;  and  by  both  of  these  characteristics  to  in- 
hibit the  intellectual  processes.  The  finer  and  later 
developed  mental  processes  are  thrown  out  of  gear, 
and  the  cruder,  commoner,  and  lower  levels  of  mind 
are  put  into  unrestrained  operation.  Davenport  shows 
how  the  more  primitive  traits  appear  in  religious 
revivals  displacing  those  which  belong  to  higher  and 
more  civilized  mind.  He  traces  the  identity  of  the 
revival  with  the  ghost  dance  of  the  Indians  and  the 
*' experience  meeting"  of  the  Negroes. 

A  further  fact  concerning  the  revival  is  that  the 
reactions  which  are  the  objective  of  its  elaborate 
technique  are  in  themselves  quite  insignificant  and 
capable  of  complete  dissociation  from  their  intended 
ideal  significance.  The  effort  of  the  evangelist  is  to 
persuade  persons  to  commit  themselves  by  signing 
cards,  rising  for  prayers,  lifting  the  hand,  moving  to 
the  front  seat,  answering  a  single  question  affirma- 
tively. Much  is  said  in  his  sermons  about  a  better 
life,  new  resolves,  and  unselfish  service,  but  when  the 
appeal  is  finally  made  it  is  a  summons  to  make  certain 
simple  familiar  reactions.  The  result  is  that  many  give 
the  sign  demanded  and  are  counted  among  the  con- 
verts, but  do  not  become  permanent,  dependable 
members  of  religious  organizations,  or  otherwise  dis- 
play genuine,  lasting  interest.  Many  persons  feel 
chagrined  and  humiliated  that  they  have  been  "car- 
ried away"  by  the  excitement,  and  as  a  consequence 
they  are  henceforth  repelled  from  conventional  re- 
ligious activities. 

In  no  respect  is  there  greater  agreement  among 

271 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  psychologists  of  rehgion  than  in  this:  that  the 
methods  and  many  conversions  of  revivals  are  essen- 
tially the  methods  and  effects  of  hypnotism.  The 
fixation  of  attention,  the  manipulation  of  subjects 
through  a  series  of  suggestions,  the  final  mandatory  ex- 
hortation to  surrender  and  to  indicate  it  by  a  simple 
motor  response  —  these  are  the  well  known  methods 
of  hypnotism.  The  subject  may  feel  himself  held  in 
spite  of  himself  to  the  ideas  and  acts  presented.  He 
has  the  sense  of  being  borne  on  by  forces  outside  him- 
self, and  is  often  assured  that  this  is  the  most  precious 
and  reassuring  element  of  his  "experience."  He  is 
urged  to  surrender  his  will,  to  trust,  to  have  faith, 
and  these  are  precisely  the  attitudes  and  moods  which 
facilitate  hypnotism.  As  Professor  Coe  says:  "The 
striking  psychic  manifestations  which  reach  their 
climax  among  us  in  emotional  revivals,  camp-meetings, 
and  negro  services  have  a  direct  relation  to  certain 
states  of  an  essentially  hypnotic  and  hallucinatory 
kind."  In  another  connection  he  asserts  that "  the  phe- 
nomenon in  Methodist  history  known  as  the  'power' 
was  induced  by  hypnotic  processes  now  well  under- 
stood." ^^         '"' 

Psychologically,  the  defects  of  the  conversion  ex- 
perience may  be  stated  in  terms  of  the  limitations  of 
hypnotic  control.  It  does  not  present  intelligent  and 
rational  grounds  of  action.  Conversion  is  made  to 
turn  upon  "  a  sense  of  sin, "  but  it  does  not  develop  the 
realization  of  sin  in  a  large  way.  It  seeks  for  the  sensi- 

1  G.  A.  Coe,  Tlie  Spiritual  Life,  p.  141;  Coe,  Religion  of  a  Mature 
Mind,  ch.  ix;  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  171;  Davenport,  Prim- 
itive Traits  in  Religious  Revivals,  ch.  xii,  "  Conversion  by  Suggestion." 

272 


CONVERSION 

tive  point  in  the  conscience  of  the  subject,  and  works 
upon  this,  without  adequate  reference  to  the  reaHty 
and  objectivity,  moral  quahty,  and  social  character 
of  his  sin.  The  pressure  is  apt  to  centre  upon  some 
secondary  and  minor  matters,  such  as  popular  amuse- 
ments. Participation  in  them  is  represented  as  a  chief 
thing  for  which  forgiveness  is  needed.  There  is  dan- 
ger, therefore,  that  the  virtues  of  the  new  life  shall 
be  as  insignificant  as  the  sins  of  the  old.  The  occasions 
of  "joining  the  church"  may  appear  slight  when  the 
stress  is  over,  and  further  devotion  to  religious  in- 
terests may  be  held  lightly  as  a  consequence.  Such 
methods  afford  no  sufficient  sense  of  reality  and  depth  » 
for  the  religious  life.  They  tend  to  produce  formal  and  i 
superficial,  not  to  say  hypocritical  religionists.  They 
conspire  to  set  religion  apart  from  one's  normal,  sane, 
and  well  regulated  activities,  making  it  seem  unnatu-  , 
ral  and  weird.  Methods  of  this  kind  obscure  and  ' 
minimize  the  function  of  education  in  religion,  whereas 
any  important  results  which  seem  to  follow  from  the 
conversion  experience  actually  consist  either  in  mak- 
ing vital  some  past  discipline  inoperative  at  the  time 
of  conversion,  or  in  setting  the  individual  upon  the 
path  of  new  educative  influences.  Unless  conversion 
Is  preceded  or  followed  by  the  effective  development 
of  habits  belonging  to  good  character,  then  conver- 
sion becomes  a  momentary  emotion  with  no  positive 
significance. 

It  is  sometimes  argued  in  defense  of  conversion  that 
it  is  of  value  in  those  cases  where  the  individual  has 
become  encased  in  injurious  habits  and  needs  a  power- 
ful force  to  release  him  and  set  him  in  a  new  direction. 

273 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Such  cases  do  occur.  But  the  effort  to  reach  them  in 
revivals  is  compHcated  with  serious  disadvantages 
aside  from  those  already  indicated.  There  is  no  suf- 
ficient recognition  of  individual  problems  and  expe- 
riences. In  order  to  move  the  hardened  sinner  the 
sensibilities  of  many  innocent  persons  and  highly  sug- 
gestible children  are  wrought  upon.  In  detailing  the 
sins  of  such  evil  doers  suggestions  of  crime  may  be 
lodged  where  they  would  not  otherwise  have  entered. 
Many  thoughtful,  better  controlled  auditors  resist 
all  such  appeals,  fail  to  find  instruction  for  their  prob- 
lems, and  are  led  to  take  religion  at  the  apparent  esti- 
mate of  its  representatives,  as  something  not  in- 
tended for  those  who  are  incapable  of  conversion.  The 
statistics  show  that  very  few  persons  past  the  adoles- 
cent period  ever  respond  to  the  conversion  methods, 
and  all  psychologists  agree  that  for  the  adolescents 
gradual  development  by  means  of  education  is  far 
preferable.  It  is  further  probable  that  individual 
cases  of  sinfulness,  like  those  of  disease,  can  be  most 
effectively  treated  by  specific  remedies,  among  which 
even  hypnotic  suggestion,  privately  instead  of  pub- 
licly administered,  might  find  a  place.  But  in  religion, 
as  in  medicine,  it  becomes  increasingly  apparent  that 
the  great  need  is  prevention  through  normal  activity 
and  development,  and,  therefore,  "salvation  by  edu-. 
cation"  rather  than  by  conversion. 

The  defects  of  conversion  appear  even  more  clearly 
in  its  secondary  results.  It  creates  a  desire  for  the 
repetition  of  the  excitement  and  emotion  of  the  re- 
vival. Many  churches  fall  into  a  rhythm  of  interest 
and  indifference  accompanying  the  periods  of  revival 

274 


-^ 


CONVERSION 

and  of  the  regular  work,  which  latter  comes  to  be  felt 
as  routine  and  drudgery.  The  illusion  develops  under 
which  things  done  in  the  excitement  of  a  "great  meet- 
ing" appear  more  important  than  the  same  things 
done  quietly.  Churches  seem  to  themselves  to  have 
accomplished  more  when  they  make  a  hundred  con- 
verts in  the  annual  revival  than  if  they  receive  the 
same  number  in  the  year's  regular  services.  In  some 
local  churches  the  annual  "protracted  meeting"  is 
felt  to  be  necessary  although  the  work  of  training  and 
enlisting  new  recruits  is  already  practically  effected 
by  class  work  and  other  educational  agencies.  An 
interesting  illustration  of  the  type  created  by  conver- 
sion is  seen  in  those  persons  who  remove  into  new 
localities  and  do  not  become  identified  with  a  religious 
organization  until  appealed  to  by  revival  services.  In 
effect  they  are  dependent  upon  the  revival  stimulus 
for  so  simple  a  matter  as  the  transfer  of  their  church 
letters.  In  a  similar  way  the  radiation  of  the  revival 
method  appears  in  the  administration  of  practical 
interests  such  as  finances  and  social  reforms.  In  order 
to  secure  funds  for  missions,  for  buildings,  and  for 
ordinary  expenses  it  is  quite  customary  to  hold  "ral- 
lies" and  various  special  meetings.  Actual  experience 
proves,  however,  that  more  can  be  accomplished  in 
such  matters,  and  more  general  cooperation  secured  by 
individual,  systematic  solicitation.  Again,  when  social 
reforms  are  undertaken  by  religious  people  they  are 
likely  to  organize  mass  meetings  and  employ  oratory. 
They  have  a  predilection  to  rely  upon  public  demon- 
strations and  skillful  speech-making.  It  is  well  un- 
derstood that  such  meetings  are  seldom  the  source  of 

275 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

sustained,  organized  effort.    Church  people  are  gen- 
erally better  able  to  agitate  a  reform  than  to  administer 
it  permanently.  Davenport  has  suggested  that  in  some 
sections  of  the  country,  notably  in  certain  counties  of 
Kentucky,  the  religious  emotionalism  generated  by 
revivals  may  be  causally  connected  with  social  dis- 
order in  the  form  of  feuds  and  lynchings.  He  took  the 
period  from  1882  to  1903,  and  found  that  where  the 
great  Kentucky  revivals  of  1800  occurred,  the  lynch- 
ings were  most  numerous.     "In  a  region  containing 
only  one-fortieth  of  the  population  of  the  state  and 
not  much  more  than  one-fortieth  of  the  area,  one- 
sixth  of  all  the  cases  of  lynching  are  to  be  found. "  ^  ' 
In  his  recent  work  on  social  psychology  Professor  Ross 
characterizes  the  crowd,  including, the  religious  crowd 
of  revivals,   as  ephemeral,  irrational,   and  immoral. 
"The  crowd  may  generate  moral  fervor,  but  it  never 
sheds  light.   If  at  times  it  has  furthered  progress,  it  is 
because  the  mob  serves  as  a  battering  ram  to  raze 
some  mouldering,  bat-infested  institution  and  clean 
the  ground  for  something  better.    This  better  will  be 
the  creation  of  gifted  individuals  or  of  deliberative 
bodies,  never  of  anonymous  crowds.    It  is  easier  for 
masses  to  agree  on  a  Nay  than  a  Yea.   Hence  crowds 
destroy  despotisms,  but  never  build  free  states;  abol- 
ish evils,  but  never  found  works  of  beneficence.   Essen- 
tially atavistic  and  sterile,  the  crowed  ranks  as  the 
lowest  of  the  forms  of  human  association."  ^ 

1  F.  M.  Davenport,  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals,  p.  303. 
«  E.  A.  Ross,  Social  Psychology,  p.  56. 


PART  IV 

THE  PLACE  OF  RELIGION  IN  THE  EXPERIENCE 
OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


CHAPTER  XV 

RELIGION   AS   INVOLVING   THE   ENTIRE   PSYCHICAL 

LIFE 

As  human  life  becomes  complex  it  is  specialized  into 
many  social  organizations  and  activities.  The  homo- 
geneity of  simple  primitive  society  differentiates  into 
numberless  classes,  parties,  associations,  and  alliances. 
Law,  art,  science,  and  religion  in  the  early  stages  of 
society  are  scarcely  distinguishable  from  each  other. 
In  advanced  civilizations  they  often  appear  sepa- 
rate and  sometimes  antagonistic.  Not  only  do  they 
seem  to  diverge  from  each  other,  but  they  tend  to 
lose  connection  with  the  stream  of  concrete  activity 
which  produced  them.  Each  specialized  interest  in 
turn  develops  parties  and  schools  of  thought  within 
itself  which  threaten  its  unity.  Obviously  this  is  true 
of  religion,  and  the  case  is  not  greatly  different  in  law, 
art,  and  science.  Such  parties  with  their  doctrines 
develop  around  partial,  special  interests,  and  finally 
become  remote,  abstract,  and  rent  by  internal  conflict. 
Some  protestant  sects  have  as  their  distinguishing 
mark  a  doctrine  of  the  ordinances  or  the  observance 
of  a  certain  day  of  worship !  But  it  is  possible  to  put 
these  varying  developments  within  their  proper  genetic 
perspective  where  their  divergence  may  be  under- 
stood and  their  ultimate  source  in  vital  processes  be 
made  clear.  Rehgion,  with  its  changing  forms,  may 
ihus  be  seen  in  its  natural,  concrete  character  as  a 

279 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

phase  of  all  socialized  human  experience.  None  of  its 
manifestations  remains  the  unmodified  embodiment 
of  all  the  spiritual  values  of  this  growing  experience. 
Both  apologists  and  critics  of  religion  have  neglected 
this  fact.  They  have  been  misled  by  the  persistent 
and  pernicious  fallacy  which  identifies  a  part  with  the 
whole,  or  a  stage  of  development  with  the  whole  pro- 
cess. If  one  starts  with  the  assumption  that  religion 
is  synonymous  with  animism,  then  in  a  scientific  age 
religion  becomes  remote  from  life  and  is  destined  to 
perish.  Or  if  by  religion  is  meant  the  development  of 
the  Hebrew  tradition,  it  is  a  foregone  conclusion  that 
there  is  no  religion  among  native  Africans  and  Aus- 
tralians. 

The  results  of  genetic  social  psychology  make  it 
possible  to  overcome  the  various  partial  and  limited 
conceptions  of  the  relation  of  religion  and  life.  Since 
the  religious  consciousness,  according  to  these  results, 
is  just  the  consciousness  of  the  great  interests  and 
purposes  of  life  in  their  most  idealized  and  intensified 
forms,  it  is  evident  that  in  its  generic  nature  religion 
is  a  most  intimate  aspect  of  human  life.  This  has 
been  shown  in  detail  with  reference  to  ceremonies, 
mythology,  sacrifice,  and  prayer.  Everywhere  the 
sacred  objects  and  functions  are  those  in  which  the 
life  of  society  is  felt  to  centre.  But  different  stages 
in  social  development  estimate  these  things  differ- 
ently and  express  social  valuations  in  different  ways. 
When  all  phases  of  life  are  permeated  with  supersti- 
tion and  magic,  religion  shares  in  this  confused,  child- 
ish attitude.  But  when  custom  has  been  criticised 
and  given  moral  character  through  reflection  and  self- 

280 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

direction,  religion  centres  in  moral  ideals  and  in  ra- 
tional methods  of  control.    In  early  society  religion  is 
more  likely  to  remain  identified  with  older  customs, 
but  even  there  the  different  phases  of  social  life  inter- 
act.    Economic  conditions  compel   reconstruction  in 
traditional  customs,  and  often  produce  an  advance  in 
morals  which  finally  registers  itself  in  religious  sym- 
bols.   Or  again  a  prophetic  religion  may  gain  moral 
insight  through  its  leaders  in  advance  of  the  masses- 
and  thereby  become  an  effective  moralizing  agency. 
In  some  instances  the  religion  of  one  people  has  been 
taken  to  other  races  and  has  presented  sharp  con- 
trasts to  the  existing  cults.    Religion  in  such  a  case 
may  become  the  occasion  of  social  reconstruction  and 
moral  progress;  but  such  an  aggressive  religion  al- 
ways requires  an  interpretation  in  terms  of  the  historic 
social  life  of  its  origin.    It  is  necessary  to  achieve  an 
imaginative  reproduction  of  the  actual  life  of  the  so- 
ciety in  which  a  religion  arose  in  order  to  make  it 
effective  in   a  new  environment.      Christianity   un- 
doubtedly presented  high  moral  ideals  and  great  ethi- 
cal energy  to  the  perishing  civilizations  of  Greece  and 
Rome.   But  it  was  not  Christianity  alone.   The  whole 
idealized  social  history  of  the  Hebrew  people,  through 
their  own  literature,  was  carried  over  to  the  Gentiles. 
The  task  of  orienting  the  history  and  concrete  life 
of  this  people  with  warmth  and  color  for  the  nations 
of  Europe  has  been  the  gigantic  task  of  generations  of 
Christian  scholars,  orators,  and  artists.    At  the  same 
time  the  growing  life  of  the  peoples  which  accepted 
Christianity  has  necessitated  modifications  in  that 
religion.    The  culture  of  the  Renaissance  demanded, 

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PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  the  democracy  and  science  of  the  present  time 
demand  great  readjustments  in  the  prevaiHng  reli- 
gious institutions. 

The  morahzation  of  rehgion  moves  forward  with 
the  practical  and  ethical  development  of  the  race. 
This  is  becoming  clearer  as  the  processes  of  social 
evolution  are  better  understood.  New  ethical  prob- 
lems constantly  arise  in  modern  life  with  the  emergence 
of  new  commercial  and  industrial  activities.  For  ex- 
ample, the  new  methods  and  forms  of  organization 
in  industry  represented  by  the  corporation  and  the 
labor  union,  necessitate  a  new  meaning  for  the  term 
justice.  This  sense  of  new  social  relations  is  demand- 
ing recognition  in  new  developments  of  religious  ac- 
tivity and  doctrine.  Along  with  these  claims  for  speci- 
fic modifications  there  is  also  a  growing  insistence  upon 
the  underlying  principle  of  evolution.  The  age  of 
invention  and  discovery  has  destroyed  the  old  static 
life.  With  the  w  ider  knowledge  of  nature  which  science 
affords  the  doctrine  of  development  is  passing  into 
practical  terms  and  taking  the  form  of  an  ideal  of 
individual  and  social  progress.  A  consequent  read- 
justment of  religion  is  recognized  as  necessary  in  order 
to  enable  it  to  embody  the  spirit  of  the  new  life  which 
society  is  attaining.*  This  readjustment  is  demanded 
not  in  this  or  that  particular,  but  as  a  continuous, 
thoroughgoing  process  to  be  conscientiously  facili- 
tated and  maintained.  The  age  begins  to  regard  ex- 
perimentation and  progress  as  moral  demands  in  every 

*  The  tendency  is  expressed  in  many  recent  works,  such  as  Rauschen- 
busch's  Christianity  and  the  Social  Crisis ;  Francis  G.  Peabody's  Jesus 
Christ  and  the  Social  Question. 

282 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

sphere  of  activity,  and  therefore  is  attaching  religious 
significance  to  them.  The  movement  is  under  way 
which  is  destined  to  exalt  the  very  process  of  devel- 
opment to  the  place  of  a  religious  obligation.  It 
may  even  add  the  attribute  of  evolution  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  Deity,  and  embody  the  quality  of  dy- 
namic, purposeful  activity  among  the  cardinal  virtues. 
If  the  organized,  institutionalized  forms  of  religion 
appear  barren  and  powerless  it  is  likely  that  a  more 
real  and  vital  religious  consciousness  will  be  found 
in  other  social  movements  which  are  not  yet  desig- 
nated as  religious  and  may  not  regard  themselves  as 
such. 

These  conventionalized,  lifeless  forms  arrogate  to 
themselves  the  name  of  religion,  and  thereby  succeed 
in  creating  the  illusion  that  religion  itself  is  inert  and 
decadent.  It  is  this  fact  which  lends  the  color  of  truth 
to  the  statement  that  religion  is  characteristically 
conservative  and  naturally  follows  rather  than  leads 
civilization's  pioneers.  This  has  come  to  be  a  common 
view  among  a  certain  school  of  social  theorists.^  An 
almost  equally  extreme  view  on  the  opposite  side  is 
that  which  attributes  social  progress  too  largely  to 
religious  initiative,  ignoring  the  complex  economic, 
social  influences  which  are  operative.  A  truer  view 
is  that  the  ideal  values  of  each  age  and  of  each 
type  of  social  development  tend  to  reach  an  inten- 
sity, a  volume,  and  a  symbolic  expression  which  are 
religious. 

There  is  accordingly  a  conflict  among  religious  as 
among  all  other  types  of  social  experience.    If  the  re- 

*  T.  Veblen,  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class,  chapter  xii. 

283 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ligious  struggles  are  the  most  tragic  it  is  because  all 
parties  are  here  contending  for  what  seem  to  them 
the  most  profoundly  important  interests  of  life.  Such 
struggles  are  finally  settled,  not  by  argument  or  war, 
but  by  the  onward  movement  of  the  whole  social  de- 
velopment of  mankind.  Professor  Ross  has  contrasted 
the  religious  aspects  of  this  movement  in  terms  of 
"legal  religion"  and  "social  religion."  The  former  be- 
longs in  his  view  to  the  patriarchal  type  of  society, 
the  latter  to  that  type  of  society  in  which  sympathy 
and  brotherhood  prevail.  He  recognizes  that  religion 
persists  in  new  forms  with  changing  intellectual  and 
social  interests.  "  Geology,  or  higher  criticism,  or  com- 
parative mythology,  may  undermine  particular  be- 
liefs with  which  ethical-religious  feeling  has  associated 
itself.  But  the  soul  of  religion  has  a  marvelous  and 
little-suspected  power  of  escaping  into  new  forms  of 
belief."  "In  western  society,  the  beliefs  that  create 
legal  religion  are  perishing  before  our  eyes.  They  stand 
in  flat  contradiction  to  our  knowledge,  and  as  the  state 
becomes  more  able  to  secure  civil  order,  the  social 
ego  takes  less  pains  to  keep  them  alive  for  the  sake 
of  their  usefulness.  The  idealism  that  creates  social 
religion,  however,  is  not  suffering  so  much.  .  .  .  Social 
religion  then  has  a  long  and  possibly  great  career 
awaiting  it.  As  it  disengages  itself  from  that  which 
is  transient  and  perishable,  as  the  dross  is  purged 
away  from  its  beliefs  and  the  element  of  social  com- 
pulsion entirely  disappears  from  it,  social  religion  will 
become  purer  and  nobler.  No  longer  a  paid  ally  of 
the  policeman,  no  longer  a  pillar  of  social  order,  it  will 
take  its  unquestioned  place  with  art  and  science  and 

284 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

wisdom,  as  one  of  the  free  manifestations  of  the  higher 
human  spirit."  ^ 

This  concrete  essential  relation  of  religion  and  life 
is  evidenced  also  in  a  psychological  analysis  of  ideals. 
Psychologically  ideals  are  more  or  less  remote  ends  of 
action  whose  realization  is  sought  through  the  medi- 
ation of  reflection  and   effort.    The  term  moral   has 
been  used  to  designate  those  ideals  which  pertain  par- 
ticularly to  human  social  welfare,  in  distinction  from 
the  claims  of  religion  which  seeks  authority  and  action 
for  conduct  in  the  will  of  a  Deity.    The  contrast  be- 
tween moral  and  religious  conduct  belongs  to  that  con- 
ception of  the  world  which  makes  a  rigid  distinction 
between  the  natural  and  supernatural,  between  the 
human  and  divine.    But  if  religion  is  identified  with 
the  most  intimate  and  vital  phases  of  the  social  con- 
sciousness,   then    the   distinction    between    morality 
and  religion  is  not  real.    That  which  makes  an  end 
or  ideal  of  action  moral  is  the  fact  that  it  is  accepted 
with  awareness;  that  it  is  compared  with  other  ends; 
that  it  is  analyzed;  and  that  it  is  voluntarily  chosen 
as  good.    This  means  that  the  social  significance  of 
the  end  desired  is  taken  into  account.  All  truly  human 
conduct  is  necessarily  social  because  its  means  and 
ends,  its    source  and    its  consequences  are  socially 
conditioned.     Just  because  man's  mind  is  a  social 
reality,  his  moral  or  reflective  ideals  are  also  social. 
It  is  true  that  many  social  ends  both  among  primi- 
tive and  civilized  people  are  not  moral  because  they 
have  not  been  reflectively  selected.     But  all  moral 
conduct  is  by  necessity  social.    It  follows  that  some 
1  E.  A.  Ross,  Social  Control,  pp.  213,  216. 
285 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

forms  of  early  religious  consciousness  may  be  lacking 
in  moral  quality,  but  that  no  genuinely  moral  con- 
sciousness can  be  without  religious  quality.  In  so  far 
as  religion  is  non-moral  it  is  primitive  and  controlled 
bv  custom.  On  the  other  hand  all  moral  ideals  are  re- 
ligious  in  the  degree  to  which  they  are  the  expression 
of  great,  vital  interests  of  society.  Religion,  in  the 
minds  of  its  best  representatives  at  the  present  time, 
consciously  and  frankly  accepts  as  its  highest  concep- 
tion the  ideal  of  a  kingdom  or  brotherhood  of  moral 
agents  cooperating  for  the  attainment  of  further 
moral  ends.  A  representative  theologian  gives  the 
following  statement  as  the  central  doctrine  of  Chris- 
tianity: "Jesus  was  wholly  concerned  with  ethics, 
with  begetting  and  fostering  in  men  the  Godlike  life. 
The  word  'character'  summarizes  the  great  interest 
and  life-purpose  of  Jesus  Christ."  ^  Professor  Coe, 
after  giving  a  psychological  statement  of  the  nature 
of  ideals,  says:  "It  should  be  noted  also  that  there 
is  no  break  between  morals  and  religion  as  we  here 
conceive  them.  Both  move  within  the  sphere  of  the 
good.  The  race  becomes  religious  just  where  it  be- 
comes moral,  namely,  wherever  our  uncouth  ancestors 
took  a  step  beyond  instinct  by  defining  some  object 
as  their  good  and  forming  corresponding  ideals."  ^ 
The  attempt  to  delimit  the  field  of  natural  morality 
from  religion  presupposes  in  the  older  writers  a  dual- 
ism between  human  and  divine,  natural  and  "regen- 
erated" natures.    Without  the  definite  assumption  of 

1  G.  B.  Stevens,  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Salvation,  p.  475. 

2  G.  A.  Coe,  "  Moral  and  Religious  Education  from  the  Psychological 
Point  of  View,"  Journal  of  Religious  Education,  vol.  iii,  December,  1908. 

286 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

this  dualism  the  hne  between  morality  and  religion 
becomes  obscure  and  tends  to  vanish  completely.^ 

When  one  turns  from  the  theologians  and  theorists 
to  the  concrete  experience  of  religious  people,  the  pre- 
sence and  importance  of  the  moral  ideal  as  the  core  of 
religion  is  still  more  evident.  One  result  of  Starbuck's 
investigation  gives  striking  confirmation  to  this  point. 
His  subjects  were  representative  of  average  orthodox 
evangelical  church  members.  They  insisted  that  the 
most  constant  and  persistent  element  in  their  reli- 
gious consciousness  was  the  moral  ideal.  "In  ado- 
lescence," writes  Starbuck,  "when  the  new  life  bursts 
forth,  its  most  important  content  was  ethical.  Dur- 
ing storm  and  stress  and  doubt  that  which  remained 
firmest  when  life  was  least  organized  was  this  same 
instinct.  And  now  we  find,  in  describing  their  fun- 
damental attitudes  toward  life,  that  the  respondents 
already  in  the  late  teens  and  twenties  mention  con- 
duct almost  as  frequently  as  at  any  later  time  in  life. 
...  It  should  be  recalled  that  among  the  things 
which  are  given  as  absolutely  essential,  the  sine  qua 
non  of  religion,  conduct  was  most  frequently  men- 
tioned." ^  The  respondents  say:  "The  test  of  reli- 
gion is  conduct  towards  my  fellow-beings."  "Religion 
is  more  a  life,  a  living,  than  a  system.  It  is  a  series  of 
daily  actions  which  determines  conduct.  Its  essence 
is  daily  doing  of  good  to  one's  fellow  men.' 


>> 


*  G.  H.  Palmer,  The  Field  of  Ethics,  chapter  iv.  The  attempt  in  this 
chapter  to  show  what  rehgion  adds  to  morahty  issues  in  the  claim 
that  it  adds  "horizon,  stability,  and  hope"!  But  are  not  these  qualities 
afforded  to  some  degree  by  every  ideal? 

*  E.  D.  Starbuck,  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  321. 

287 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

This  conscious  recognition  of  moral  conduct  as  the 
deepest  thing  in  their  religious  experience  is  all  the 
more  impressive  when  it  is  taken  in  connection  with 
the  fact  that  much  of  their  training  in  religion  must 
have  emphasized  the  customary  doctrine  that  mere 
morality  has  nothing  in  common  with  religion.  Theo- 
retically the  popular  presentation  of  religion  moves 
largely  within  sacramental  conceptions.  The  saving 
"power  of  ordinances  survives  in  practice  even  when 
the  doctrine  has  been  silenced.  It  is  the  usual  key- 
note of  evangelistic  appeals  that  the  good  works  one 
does  in  his  natural  state  are  of  themselves  of  no  avail. 
It  is  necessary  to  "  surrender, "  "  obey,"  "  confess  "  and 
receive  a  "spirit"  in  order  to  become  genuinely  reli- 
gious. Of  course  all  such  expressions  may  be  given  a 
justifiable  and  reasonable  moral  content,  but  in  reli- 
gious usage  they  ordinarily  mean  that  in  some  unac- 
countable way  a  new  life,  which  was  foreign  before, 
comes  into  one's  experience.  Thenceforth  it  gives 
eJEcacy  to  good  resolutions  and  good  deeds.  But  in 
spite  of  the  prevalence  of  such  teaching  the  inves- 
tigation referred  to  above  shows  that  during  storm 
and  stress  and  doubt  that  which  remained  firmest 
was  the  natural  ethical  character;  and  it  was  this 
moral  life  which  afterwards  constituted  the  substance 
of  religion. 

The  comparison  of  this  moral  and  social  religious 
ideal  with  the  mediaeval  notion  of  saintliness  is  thus 
described  by  Professor  James:  "The  Catholicism  of 
the  sixteenth  century  paid  little  heed  to  social  right- 
eousness; and  to  leave  the  world  to  the  devil  whilst 
saving  one's  own  soul  was  then  accounted  no  dis- 

288 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

creditable  scheme.  To-day,  rightly  or  wrongly,  help- 
fulness in  general  human  affairs  is,  in  consequence 
of  one  of  those  secular  mutations  in  moral  sentiment 
of  which  I  spoke,  deemed  an  essential  element  of 
worth  in  character;  and  to  be  of  some  public  or  private 
use  is  also  reckoned  as  a  species  of  divine  service.^ 

The  clear  apprehension  of  the  concrete  relation  of 
religion  to  the  total  life  process  furnishes  a  corrective  for 
the  erroneous  view  that  within  the  individual  religion  is 
due  to  some  unique  faculty  or  instinct.  The  extreme 
form  of  the  faculty  theory  of  psychology  arose  his- 
torically with  individualism,  while  individualism  in 
turn  accompanied  the  differentiation  of  the  old  social 
unity  mto  various  activities.  "This  extreme  indi- 
vidualistic tendency  was  contemporaneous  with  a 
transfer  of  interest  from  the  supernatural  church-state 
over  to  commercial,  social,  and  political  bodies  with 
which  the  modern  man  found  himself  identified.  .  .  . 
The  individualistic  tendency  found  a  convenient  in- 
tellectual tool  in  a  psychology  which  resolved  the  in- 
dividual into  an  association  or  series  of  particular 
states  of  feeling  and  sensations;  and  the  good  into  a 
like  collection  of  pleasures  also  regarded  as  particu- 
lar mental  states."  ^  The  psychologists  of  that  period, 
whether  of  the  associationist  or  intuitionist  type, 
viewed  the  mental  life  as  separated  into  discrete  ele- 
ments and  processes.  Reason,  feeling,  and  volition 
were  distinct  from  each  other.  The  rational  nature, 
the  moral  nature,  the  religious  nature  were  taken  as 
having  their  own  psychological  mechanisms.    The  ac- 

1  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  354. 

2  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Ethics,  pp.  220,  221. 

289 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tivity  and  development  of  these  endowments  identified 
the  individual  with  the  corresponding  human  interests. 
The  operations  of  reason  made  him  rational,those  of  the 
moral  nature  made  him  moral,  and  those  of  the  religious 
nature  made  him  religious.  But  modern  life  is  revealing 
not  merely  the  harmony  of  its  various  departments 
in  a  working  alliance,  but  their  vital  and  organic  re- 
lations with  each  other  in  purposive  life  history.  In 
the  same  way  the  various  phases  of  human  nature  are 
found  to  be  more  than  attributes  or  qualities  inhering 
in  man's  metaphysical  being.  They  are  different  as- 
pects, stages,  or  abstracted  processes  of  the  total, 
pulsating  life  of  the  organism.  The  normal  mental  life 
is  a  complex,  functionally  organized  activity.  Like 
other  high  biological  organisms,  man  is  capable  of 
doing  a  variety  of  things  and  of  gaining  a  wealth  of 
experience  in  the  process,  but  there  is  only  one  men- 
tal life  involved.  The  various  interests  which  he 
pursues  —  business,  art,  science,  politics,  religion  — 
employ  his  whole  nature.  Their  differences  are  those 
of  direction,  of  emphasis,  of  methods.  This  functional 
specialization  of  activity  creates  appropriate  systems 
of  habits  and  attitudes,  and  these  systems  may  be 
called  different  "selves,"  but  the  differences  between 
such  selves  are  only  relative  and  provisional.  Religion 
in  this  view,  like  all  other  interests,  is  a  matter  of 
habits  and  attitudes.  The  religious  nature  is  not  some- 
thing distinguishable  and  separable  in  any  mechanical 
and  exclusive  way.  Such  a  "nature"  is  just  one  of 
the  "selves"  in  a  functional  and  relative  sense.  It 
has  no  more  independence  or  uniqueness  than  one's 
artistic  nature  or  one's  scientific  nature.   But  it  has 

290 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

just  as  much.  Religion,  like  every  other  specialized 
interest  of  man,  involves  the  reaction  of  his  entire 
nature.  It  is  not  the  product  of  any  one  agency  within 
him.  In  its  most  natural,  normal  development  it  is 
just  the  expression  and  appreciation  of  those  ideal 
relationships  and  values  which  are  inherent  in  all 
earnest  moral  efforts. 

Those  who  tend  to  identify  religious  experience  with 
the  activity  of  some  peculiar  organ  or  element  of  the 
mental  life  have  recently  made  much  use  of  the  sub- 
conscious. Here  there  seemed  to  be  a  safe  retreat  for 
the  hard-pressed  advocates  of  the  uniqueness  of  re- 
ligious experience.  But  as  the  phenomena  of  the  sub- 
conscious are  more  carefully  examined  and  compared 
with  the  conscious  processes  the  more  do  they  disclose 
relations  and  resemblances  to  these  better  understood 
experiences.  The  importance  of  the  subconscious  in  re- 
cent psychology  is  expressed  by  Professor  James  in 
these  words :  "  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  most  impor- 
tant step  forward  that  has  occurred  in  psychology  since 
I  have  been  a  student  of  that  science  is  the  discovery 
first  made  in  1886,  that,  in  certain  subjects  at  least, 
there  is  not  only  the  consciousness  of  the  ordinary  field 
with  its  usual  centre  and  margin,  but  an  addition 
thereto  in  the  shape  of  a  set  of  memories,  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  are  extra-marginal  and  outside  of 
the  primary  consciousness  altogether,  but  yet  must 
be  classed  as  conscious  facts  of  some  sort,  able  to  re- 
veal their  presence  by  unmistakable  signs.  I  call  this 
the  most  important  step  forward  because,  unlike  the 
other  advances  which  psychology  has  made,  this  dis- 
covery has  revealed  to  us  an  entirely  unsuspected 

291 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

peculiarity  in  the  constitution  of  human  nature.  No 
other  step  forward  which  psychology  has  made  can 
proffer  any  such  claim  as  this."  ^ 

The  nature  of  this  subconscious  or  subliminal  real- 
ity is  perhaps  best  described  as  a  marginal  field  ex- 
tending out  from  the  focus  of  attention  and  full  con- 
sciousness. Just  as  in  the  visual  field,  brightness  and 
sharpness  of  definition  fail  at  the  margin,  so  in  other 
types  of  consciousness  the  illuminated  centre  shades 
off  into  an  irregular,  vanishing  fringe.  The  same  re- 
lation may  be  suggested  by  the  figure  of  a  pyramid 
at  whose  top  a  small  section  is  in  the  clear  light  of 
consciousness,  while  below,  all  is  vague  and  opaque. 
The  boundary  between  the  two  is  not  a  fixed  line,  but 
an  indeterminate  plane  moving  slightly  upward  or 
downward  under  the  varying  influence  of  attention 
and  general  mental  activity.  But  no  such  figures  of 
speech  are  entirely  satisfactory,  and  they  must  be  held 
lightly  to  avoid  abuse. 

Certain  familiar  phenomena  of  attention  and  habit 
may  be  cited  to  aid  in  defining  the  present  use  of  the 
term  subconscious  and  also  to  show  the  relation  in 
which  it  stands  to  full  consciousness.  If  we  listen  to 
a  just  discernible  sound,  such  as  the  ticking  of  a  watch, 
the  watch  may  be  moved  a  slight  distance  farther 
from  the  ear,  where  undiscriminated  stimulation  seems 
still  to  continue.  For  if  the  watch  is  now  stopped  a 
relief  is  felt,  though  the  sound  stimulus  had  already 
ceased  for  consciousness.  Still  more  remarkable  evi- 
dence has  been  furnished  by  experiments  in  which  it 
was  shown  that  shadow  lines  imperceptible  by  them- 
1  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  233. 

292 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

selves  influenced  the  judgment  as  to  the  length  of 
visible  lines  when  the  visible  and  shadow  lines  were 
employed  together.^  Again,  in  many  instances  of  "  sum- 
mation of  stimuli"  the  mind  is  at  last  brought  to  con- 
scious reaction  though  it  is  unaware  of  the  separate 
impressions  whose  cumulative  influence  produces  the 
result.  When  absorbed  in  study  one  sometimes  becomes 
aware  that  the  telephone  bell  has  been  ringing  or 
that  the  clock  is  furnishing  the  long  series  of  strokes 
for  a  late  hour. 

In  the  phenomena  of  habit  it  may  almost  be  said 
that  one  sees  the  subconscious  in  the  process  of  forma- 
tion. A  complicated  set  of  reactions,  which  at  first 
are  laboriously  and  slowly  acquired  under  the  control 
of  attention,  comes  to  be  accomplished  with  such 
facility  and  precision  that  attention  may  be  engaged 
with  other  interests  during  the  performance.  This 
is  illustrated  in  any  activity  requiring  great  technical 
skill,  as  operating  complex  delicate  machinery,  play- 
ing musical  instruments,  or  acquiring  foreign  lan- 
guages. The  more  striking  phenomena  of  habit,  on 
their  unconscious  side,  appear  when  the  habitual  re- 
action is  occasioned  as  well  as  completed  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  subject.  This  is  illustrated  by  the 
familiar  example  of  winding  one's  watch  when  chang- 
ing the  waistcoat  for  dinner.  The  removal  of  the  waist- 
coat upon  retiring  having  been  the  customary  cue  and 
occasion  for  winding  the  watch,  the  act  is  accomplished 
at  an  unusual  time  without  attracting  attention  to 
itself.    The  habitual  action  maintains  itself  by  the 

1  Dunlap,  "The  Effect  of  Imperceptible  Shadows  on  the  Judgment 
of  Distance,"  Psychological  Review,  vol.  vii,  p.  435. 

293 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

stimulus  generated  in  each  adjustment.  Each  step  in 
walking  produces  sensations  which,  unless  inhibited  by 
other  stimuli,  occasion  the  next  step.  If  this  theory 
is  correct  the  sensations  as  well  as  the  motor  reac- 
tions in  the  above  instance  of  winding  the  watch 
occur  outside  of  consciousness.  The  seeming  inde- 
pendence of  consciousness  in  acquired  habits  is  seen 
in  the  fact  that  attending  to  an  act  often  interrupts 
it.  To  be  suddenly  called  upon  to  spell  a  familiar 
word  may  throw  one  into  complete  uncertainty  about 

it. 

The  investigations  of  the  more  extreme  phenomena 
of  subconsciousness  —  dreams,  somnambuHsm,  hyp- 
notism, lapses  of  personality,  and  the  like  —  have  re- 
vealed fundamental  similarities  with  the  commoner 
phenomena,  such  as  the  variations  of  attention,  habit- 
formation,  absent-mindedness,  and  association  of 
ideas.  In  general  the  doctrine  of  different  selves  and 
of  the  centre  and  fringe  of  consciousness  so  brilliantly 
set  forth  by  Professor  James  affords  a  key  from  nor- 
mal, familiar  experience  with  which  the  abnormal  oc- 
currences may  be  opened  to  almost  as  clear  explana- 
tion as  any  other  features  of  the  mental  life.  The 
result  is  a  bridge  of  considerable  scientific  stability 
over  the  chasm  which  for  many  writers  seems  to  sepa- 
rate the  waking  self  of  conscious  life  and  the  mysteri- 
ous subconscious  self. 

In  any  case  no  scientific  inquiries  into  this  marginal 
field  of  our  experience  suppo-*  the  claim  that  the  sub- 
conscious self  is  in  any  way  ae  peculiar  organ  of  re- 
ligion. It  is  the  massive  encircling  milieu  of  custom, 
tradition,  sympathies  and  tastes  within  which  any 

294 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

kind  of  clear  consciousness  exists.  It  is  the  depth 
and  range  of  these  influences,  whether  consciously 
acquired  or  assimilated  in  subtle  ways  from  one's 
social  environment,  which  give  expertness  and  sensi- 
tivity to  the  artist  and  mechanic  as  well  as  to  the 
saint.  It  is  in  the  environment  moulded  by  tradition 
that  our  present  selves  find  a  potent  condition  of  their 
own  development.  It  was  these  influences,  likewise, 
that  "imparted  unity  and  continuity  to  the  great 
civilizing  movements  of  mankind  in  art,  in  architec- 
ture, in  music,  in  poetry,  in  literature,  in  science,  in 
philosophy,  in  invention."  ^  In  a  similar  way  and  in 
no  different  way  religion  draws  its  sustenance  from 
the  deep  soil  of  accumulated  social  experience  and 
from  the  wide  spreading  roots  of  individual  inherit- 
ance and  impressionability.  The  subtle,  powerful 
influences  of  imitation,  suggestion,  and  subconscious 
habits  operate  in  religion,  giving  it  stability  and  in- 
tensity. It  is  by  this  means  that  the  racial  ideas  pos- 
sess such  urgency,  objectivity,  and  formative  power. 
They  are  the  result  of  the  long  arduous  life  struggles 
of  mankind.  It  is  no  wonder  they  have  been  pro- 
claimed with  prophetic  zeal  and  obeyed  with  tragic 
devotion.  But  every  interest  of  society  moves  for- 
ward by  the  aid  of  similar  forces.  In  respect,'' then,  to 
the  operation  of  subconscious  elements,  religion  is  not 
unique.  It  stands  in  the  normal  relations  character- 
istic of  all  other  genuine  social  interests. 

These  general  considerations  concerning  the  nat- 
uralness of  religion  have  suggestive  application    to 
particular  phases   of    religious    experience.    Recent 
*  Joseph  Jastrow,  The  Subconscious,  pp.  157  f. 

295 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

studies  have  undertaken  to  describe  and  classify  va- 
rious phenomena,  such  as  faith,  prayer,  worship,  and 
mysticism.^  There  is  usually  a  tendency  to  limit 
these  terms  in  a  way  which  betrays  a  failure  to  re- 
late them  with  sufficient  concreteness  and  complexity 
to  the  total  activity  of  the  religious  consciousness. 
The  fallacies  of  taking  religion  apart  from  life  and  of 
mistaking  some  partial  factor  for  the  whole,  reappear 
in  the  treatment  of  special  topics. 

Faith  is  very  commonly  viewed  in  this  way.  It  is 
regarded  as  peculiar  to  religion  and  as  due  to  some 
special  endowment  or  experience.  Faith  is  called  the 
instrument  of  religion,  and  knowledge  the  instrument 
of  science.  But  in  reality  religion  and  science  both  in- 
volve the  whole  mental  life,  —  emotion,  imagination, 
reason,  and  action.  They  are  differentiated  by  their 
centre  of  interest  within  the  total  life  history  of  hu- 
man action.  Science,  religion,  art,  and  other  interests 
are  distinguished  simply  by  emphasis  upon  different 
aspects  of  human  purposive  action.  They  therefore 
harmonize  with  each  other  while  maintaining  rela- 
tively definite  characters  of  their  own.  The  pheno- 
mena of  faith  at  once  appear  simple  and  clear  when 
viewed  with  reference  to  the  moving  circuit  charac- 
teristic of  all  purposive  activity.  It  is  the  piecemeal 
and  unarticulated  view  which  makes  faith  the  occa- 
sion of  so  many  problems  and  mysteries.  It  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  all  difficulties  of  interpretation  dis- 
appear when  these  phenomena  are  approached  with 
the  methods  and  presuppositions  of  functional  psy- 

^  The  American  Journal  of  Religious  Psychology  and  Education,  Clark 
"University  Press. 

296 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

chology.    But  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  many  diffi- 
culties are  at  once  resolved  or  eliminated. 

When  faith  is  examined  psychologically  and  com- 
pared with  similar  phenomena  in  other  than  religious 
experiences,  it  is  found  to  correspond  with  the  pur- 
posive factor  in  activity.  It  may  be  said  that  wherever 
there  is  an  ideal  of  any  kind,  there  is  faith.  This  is 
clear  and  obvious  in  so  far  as  ideals  are  conceived 
dynamically.  An  ideal  as  an  end  of  action  —  that  is, 
as  something  desired,  something  for  whose  realiza- 
tion means  are  intelligently  sought,  and  something 
toward  whose  attainment  effort  is  confidently  put 
forth  —  involves  faith.  For  faith  is  just  that  interest, 
confidence,  and  vivid  envisagement  which  makes  the 
ends  sought  so  vital  and  appealing.  Faith  is  a  vital 
working  interest  in  anything.  It  is  the  attitude  which 
belongs  to  a  live  proposition  accepted  as  a  practical 
plan  of  action.  Religious  faith  is  differentiated  from 
other  types  of  faith  simply  by  the  ends  or  ideals  which 
it  seeks.  Faith  in  ideals  which  are  felt  to  be  the  highest, 
the  most  valuable,  and  the  most  essential,  is  religious 
faith.  Religious  faith  is  therefore  only  another  term 
for  the  religious  consciousness  itself,  since  that  con- 
sciousness is  purposive  and  dynamic  and  centres  in 
supreme  ideal  values. 

From  this  point  of  view  several  specific  problems 
concerning  faith  may  be  settled.  The  beginning  of 
religious  faith  is  the  point  at  which  religious  ideals 
become  warm  and  attractive.  The  psychological  pro- 
cess by  which  they  attain  this  warmth  and  attractive- 
ness is  that  of  the  association  of  ideas.  The  ideas  are 
brought  to  attention  by  suggestion,  inquiry,  educa-( 

297 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tion,  or  in  some  chance  way.  By  recurring  to  the 
attention,  by  gathering  associations,  sometimes  un- 
consciously, these  ideals  finally  move  over  into  the 
focus  of  attention  and  interest.  There  they  become 
the  object  of  effort  and  influence  conduct.  This  be- 
ginning of  interest,  of  enthusiastic  devotion  to  ideals, 
is  described  in  religious  biographies  as  the  attainment 
of  faith.  It  is  often  attended  by  keenest  satisfaction 
and  by  a  sense  of  calm  and  peace  together  with  the 
active  attitude.  This  process  has  already  been  dealt 
with  in  the  descriptions  of  conversion.  There  is  evi- 
dently a  very  pronounced  emotional  quality  in  such 
an  experience.  This  has  led  some  writers  to  consider 
faith  as  peculiarly  an  emotion.  Professor  Leuba  takes 
this  view:  "The  core  of  the  Faith-state  is  a  particu- 
lar attitude  and  an  increased  eflSciency  of  the  will  in 
consequence  of  which  an  ideal  of  life  becomes  real- 
izable. It  is  a  constructive  response  to  a  need,  a  spe- 
cific emotion  of  the  sthenic  type,  subserving,  as  emo- 
tions do,  a  particular  end."  ^  But  if  faith  is  rightly 
held  to  be  equivalent  to  confident  purposive  activity, 
then  it  may  include  also  the  intermediate  stage  of  re- 
flective analysis,  reasoning,  and  scientific  experiment 
within  which  the  best  means  of  attaining  the  ideal  are 
selected.  During  this  process  the  faith  attitude  is  not 
absent.  It  gives  zest,  support,  and  even  patience  in 
the  quest  for  knowledge,  for  although  the  scientific 
inquiry  might  at  first  seem  to  arrest  and  thwart  the 
attainment  of  the  ideal  end,  experience  shows  that 
science  facilitates  the  realization  of  practical  ideals. 

1  James  H.  Leuba,  "Faith,"  The  American  Journal  of  Religious  Psy- 
chology  and  Education,  vol.  i,  1904,  p.  73. 

298 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

Professor  Leuba  refers  to  "faith-beliefs"  as  proposi- 
tions which  are  often  accepted  by  the  religious  con- 
vert without  rational  examination,  and  held  by  him 
in  a  quite  non-rational  way.  That  is  undoubtedly 
true  in  many  cases,  especially  where  religion  has  be- 
come conventionalized  into  dogma.  But  if  religious 
faith  attaches,  as  it  may,  to  propositions  which  are 
socially  significant  and  scientifically  verifiable,  it  is 
possible  for  that  faith  to  become  the  incentive  and 
support  of  the  most  elaborate  scientific  investigations 
and  rational  control.  That  is,  a  rational  procedure 
is  normal  and,  in  modern  society,  increasingly  neces- 
sary to  purposeful  or  ideal  activity.  It  is  as  natural 
and  necessary  in  the  ventures  of  faith,  in  the  sphere 
of  religion,  as  in  the  realms  of  business  or  statecraft. 
There  is  also  at  hand,  in  this  functional  view,  a 
reconciliation  of  faith  and  works.  It  is  because  faith 
has  been  used  erroneously  to  designate  the  more  in- 
tellectual, passive  assent  to  creedal  statements  that 
it  has  seemed  possible  to  divorce  it  from  works.  In 
the  proper  sense  faith  is  a  vital  interest  and,  therefore, 
one  which  moves  on  to  complete  itself  in  action. 
There  are  many  diflSculties  and  dangers,  however, 
in  the  process.  Religious  education  has  often  empha- 
sized the  memorizing  and  repetition  of  sentiments 
without  relating  them  to  practice.  It  has  often  left 
its  proteges  stranded  in  a  sea  of  contemplation.  But 
these  phenomena  are  just  as  deplorable  in  religion  as 
in  language  and  literature.  Did  no  one  ever  learn  the 
forms  of  a  foreign  or  a  "dead"  language  without  re- 
lating them  to  useful  objects?  Did  any  one  ever  be- 
come a  dreamer  and  sentimentalist  in  the  realms  of 

299 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

literature?  Faith  is  normally  dynamic  and  practical 
whether  in  religion  or  elsewhere.  It  is  just  a  conven- 
ient term  for  the  propulsive,  forward  striving  effort  of 
human  nature.  It  is  at  its  best  when,  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  highest  intelligence,  it  fulfills  in  practical 
ways  with  energy  and  power  the  noblest  ideals  of  the 

race. 

Prayer,  even  more  than  faith,  has  been  regarded 
as  psychologically  peculiar  to  religion.    But  it  is  not. 
It  is  in  reality  a  fundamental  characteristic  of  all 
consciousness,  especially  of  that  in  which  there  is  a 
keen  sense  of  personal  needs.  Prayer,  as  was  shown  in 
the  case  of  primitive  religion,  is  a  natural  expression 
of  the  social  character  of  all  consciousness.  All  thought, 
unless  it  be  in  the  case  of  exceedingly  refined  and  ab- 
stract mental  processes,  is  personal  and  interlocutory. 
The  conscious  life  of  the  individual  is  largely  an  inter- 
play between  the  different  selves  of  his  different  at- 
titudes and  habits.    These  argue,  confer,  advise,  and 
contend  with  each  other  quite  as  actual  people  do. 
These  selves  may  be  exalted  moral  beings  with  which 
the  lesser  selves  of  one's  actual  temper  and  deeds  seek 
communion  and  from  which  they  petition  aid  of  every 
kind.    One  particular  type  of  self  often  becomes  the 
standard  for  the  individual,  and  this  self  is  largely  or 
solely  formed  upon  the  model  of  some  definite  his- 
torical or  imaginary  character.    Where  this  is  true, 
prayer  may  attain  all  the  vividness  of  personal  com- 
munion, even  including  hallucinations  and  visions  in 
which  the  ideal  personality  speaks  to  one  or  inter- 
venes in  one's  behalf.    It  is  noticeable  that  with  the 
increasing  rationalization  and  organization  of  experi- 

300 


RELIGION  AS  INVOLVING  THE  PSYCHICAL  LIFE 

ence  prayer  tends  to  lose  this  character  of  literal, 
direct  appeal  to  a  definitely  imaged  Being.  It  be- 
comes more  and  more  an  aspiration  to  understand 
the  laws  and  nature  of  reality  whether  in  the  large 
or  in  detail,  and  to  work  in  harmony  with  the  forces 
and  tendencies  of  such  reality.  On  the  contemplative, 
esthetic  side,  adoration  and  reverence  are  directed 
to  the  magnitude,  power,  progress,  and  beauty  of  na- 
ture and  of  society.  The  two  chief  factors  in  prayer 
are  craving  and  contemplation.  Just  what  expression 
these  shall  have  depends  upon  many  factors.  The 
expression  changes  with  the  growth  of  intelligence  and 
with  the  development  of  new  symbols,  but  the  aspira- 
tion and  reverence  continue  to  characterize  all  human 
consciousness  which  is  sensitive  to  the  ideal  values  of 
life. 

What  is  true  of  prayer  is  true  of  other  forms  of 
worship.  All  take  their  place  within  the  circuit  of 
teleological  activity.  All  express  attitudes  toward  the 
processes  of  life,  toward  individual  and  social  achieve- 
ments. They  express  all  moods  and  represent  all 
phases  of  failure  and  success,  of  despair  and  hope  with- 
in the  experience  of  mankind.  The  symbolic  forms  of 
worship  are  originally  the  free  and  natural  expression 
of  concrete  social  experience.  They  are  the  art  forms 
in  which  mankind  have  registered  their  spiritual  values. 
Religion,  in  its  creative  periods,  has  ever  employed 
the  drama,  music,  and  painting,  and  in  its  higher  stages, 
poetry,  sculpture,  and  architecture.  No  religion  has 
ever  been  devoid  of  all  these  arts,  and  no  religion  of 
civilization  has  ever  been  permanently  lacking  in  any 
of  them.    These  esthetic  forms  are  also  the  natural 

301 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

means  employed  to  symbolize  the  ideals  of  patriotism, 
of  war,  of  industry,  and  of  science.  In  this  esthetic  ele- 
ment, then,  the  religious  consciousness  is  normally  at 
one  with  other  human  interests;  and  here,  as  in  other 
respects,  religion  is  differentiated  by  the  inclusiveness 
and  ideality  of  the  ends  which  belong  to  it. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IDEAS   AND   RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

There  is  at  present  a  decided  reaction  against  the 
extreme  intellectualism  of  the  older  rational  psy- 
chology. This  has  been  one  phase  of  a  very  general 
tendency  in  modern  social  history.  Schopenhauer's 
presentation  of  the  will  to  live  as  against  the  intellect- 
ualism of  Hegel;  the  utilitarianism  of  Mill  in  prefer- 
ence to  the  rationalism  of  Kant;  Rousseau's  education 
according  to  nature  in  contrast  to  the  doctrinaire  dis- 
cipline of  the  Schoolmen;  and  the  pietistic  impres- 
sionism of  Ritschl  in  protest  against  the  authority  of 
dogma  and  science  are  expressions  of  the  same  move- 
ment. Within  the  domain  of  psychology  the  new 
development  has  come  through  genetic,  social,  and 
experimental  investigations.  These  in  turn  have  been 
profoundly  influenced  by  the  remarkable  progress  of 
the  biological  sciences.  Psychology  has  discovered 
the  great  extent  and  dominance  in  all  conscious  life 
of  instinct,  desire,  habit,  and  emotion.  It  has  been 
found  that  man's  life  is  controlled  much  more  by  these 
factors  than  by  explicit  ideas  and  exact  methods  of 
reasoning.  The  non-rational  phenomena  of  suggestion 
and  imitation,  of  custom  and  the  "mob  mind"  have 
attained  increasing  importance.  They  not  only  repre- 
sent an  astonishing  variety  and  organization  of  activi- 
ties within  the  subconscious  life,  but  they  dominate 

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PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  conscious  processes  far  more  than  is  commonly 
realized. 

The  discovery  of  the  genesis  of  ideas  from  instinc- 
tive and  habitual  types  of  activity  is  one  of  the  most 
fruitful  and  revolutionary  achievements  of  modern 
psychology.  For  example,  it  was  formerly  customary 
to  say  that  animals  are  guided  by  instinct  and  man 
by  reason,  with  the  implication  that  the  terms  instinct 
and  reason  are  mutually  exclusive.  But  modern  psy- 
chologists do  not  insist  upon  such  a  radical  difference 
between  animal  and  human  intelligence.  In  fact  their 
investigations  issue  in  this  paradox  for  the  older  psy- 
chology: Man's  higher  intelligence  is  directly  related 
to  his  possession  of  more  instincts  than  any  other 
animal  possesses.  Not  only  is  it  found  to  be  true  that 
man  has  actually  a  greater  number  and  variety  of 
instincts,  but  also  that  it  is  in  their  conflict  and  ten- 
dency to  inhibit  each  other  that  reflective,  cognitive 
consciousness  is  called  forth.  Man's  finer  and  larger 
nervous  system  enables  him  to  have  better  memory 
of  his  experiences,  and  therefore  in  case  of  conflict  of 
impulses  he  has  a  basis  for  comparing  their  outcome 
or  meaning.  It  is  in  this  way  that  different  lines  of 
action  are  suggested  by  a  given  situation,  and  a  rea- 
soned course  of  conduct  made  possible.  "These  higher 
forms  of  behavior  grow  out  of  the  fact  that  at  any 
given  moment  there  may  be  a  conflict  between  the 
various  tendencies  toward  impulsive  behavior.  .  .  . 
If  such  a  conflict  as  this  arises  in  the  experience  of  an 
individual  who  is  capable  of  the  higher  forms  of  idea- 
tional activity  he  takes  the  various  tendencies  of  be- 
havior up  into  a  more  elaborate  sphere  of  comparison 

304 


IDEAS   AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  deliberation.  Without  acting  immediately  upon 
one  impulse  or  the  other,  he  is  likely  to  follow  out  in 
a  train  of  ideational  processes  a  consideration  of  the 
consequences  to  which  one  or  the  other  impulse  might 
lead  him."  ^ 

That  the  ideational  processes  presuppose  and  in- 
volve impulsive  and  involuntary  activities  is  shown 
in  Professor  James's  analysis  of  voluntary  action.  He 
emphasizes  the  important  fact  that  one  gets  the  idea 
of  an  act  from  the  act,  and  that  consequently  the  first 
step  in  the  initiation  of  a  movement  by  means  of  an 
idea  is  the  production  of  the  idea  itself  by  the  impul- 
sive or  random  occurrence  of  the  movement.  When 
attention  is  directed  to  the  act  as  it  occurs,  then  an 
image  or  memory  of  it  may  be  obtained.  After  that 
the  presence  of  the  idea,  or  image  of  the  act  in  con- 
sciousness, is  sufficient  to  reproduce  the  act,  if  there 
is  no  inhibiting  idea  present.  In  other  words,  the  im- 
pulsive or  instinctive  acts  which  constantly  occur  in 
the  human  organism  may  get  registered  in  conscious- 
ness through  the  agreeable  or  disagreeable  feelings 
they  induce.  In  a  conflict  of  such  impulses  each  is 
brought  into  still  greater  vividness,  and  the  sensations, 
images,  and  emotional  quality  which  constitute  the 
idea  attain  elaboration  and  distinctness.  Voluntary 
acts,  that  is  acts  accompanied  by  the  idea  or  conscious- 
ness of  the  end,  are  therefore  by  necessity  secondary. 
They  are  always  reproductions,  not  originals,  and  the 
process  of  reproduction  is  through  the  memory  of  how 
they  felt  originally. 

1  C.  H.  Judd,  Psychology,  pp.  326,  327;  cf,  WUUam  James,  Psy- 
chology, vol.  ii,  p.  390. 

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PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

This  derived  and  dependent  character  of  ideas  is 
further  emphasized  by  their  inherent  dynamic  char- 
acter. It  has  been  the  common  notion  that  an  idea 
is  generically  different  from  an  act,  and  could  precede 
the  act  in  time,  and  might  or  might  not  be  followed  by 
movement.  If,  however,  as  many  writers  insist,  the 
basic  type  of  conscious  control  is  seen  in  ideo-motor 
activity,  then  the  idea  is  not  radically  different  from 
the  act.  It  is  rather  the  incipient  stage  or  the  prelimi- 
nary but  real  rehearsal  of  the  act.  In  this  lies  the 
significance  of  the  doctrine  that  there  is  no  impression 
without  expression,  that  every  state  of  consciousness 
tends  to  issue  in  motor  adjustment.  "The  idea  of 
movement  is,  neurally  considered,  the  beginning  of 
that  movement."  ^  In  ideo-motor  activity  the  idea- 
tional process  attains  its  normal  and  full  develop- 
ment in  movement  immediately.  The  idea  and  the 
muscular  adjustment  are  continuous.  There  is  no 
complication,  hesitation,  or  indirection.  The  circuit 
is  completed  at  once,  and  the  fruit  may  be  seen  to 
mature  directly  from  the  bloom.  It  is  difficult  to  main- 
tain this  sense  of  the  organic  relation  of  ideational  ac- 
tivity and  motor  adjustment  where  the  circuit  is  in- 
definitely extended,  and  it  is  of  course  true  that  many 
mental  states  never  reach  their  full  motor  develop- 
ment. They  remain  in  the  tentative  stage  of  verbal  or 
written  language,  or  otherwise  exhibit  an  arrested, 
abortive  state.  Such  are  plans  which  remain  in  the 
realm  of  sentimentality  or  those  which  the  fickle 
character  of  the  individual  or  society  leaves  partially 
completed.  Where  the  idea  or  rational  system  of 
*  J.  R.  Angell,  Psychology,  p.  355. 
S06 


IDEAS  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ideas  is  not  inhibited  or  deserted  through  weakness 
and  perversity  of  will,  the  unity  and  continuity  of 
idea  and  act  are  evident. 

Not  only  are  ideas  determinate  forms  of  conscious- 
ness springing  from  impulsive  activity,  but  they  are 
also  the  explicit  developments  of  unanalyzed,  confused 
emotional  states  which  result  from  conflicting  ten- 
dencies to  action.  This  vague  emotional  consciousness 
is  a  highly  important  factor  in  human  experience.  In 
making  his  way  into  the  human  social  world,  the  child 
is  not  so  much  directly  confronted  by  objects  in  the 
first  hand  use  of  which  he  gains  perceptual  and  con- 
ceptual notions  of  them,  but  he  is  surrounded  by  social 
activities,  customs,  and  ideals,  within  which  these 
objects  float.  The  objects  about  him  do  not  mean 
therefore  merely  certain  hand-eye  sensations  and  ad- 
justments, but  they  also  signify  indescribable  atti- 
tudes and  expressions  of  the  persons  who  use  them. 
The  child  often  catches  the  attitude  of  persons  toward 
objects  first,  and  is  thus  introduced  to  the  object  as 
a  phase  of  another  person's  experience.  A  younger 
child,  for  example,  is  likely  to  take  the  attitude  of  an 
older  child  toward  new  kinds  of  food  rather  than  to 
act  for  himself  toward  them  as  impersonal  things. 
The  individual's  reactions  are  so  much  conditioned 
by  the  social  environment  that  it  might  be  said  he 
seldom  or  never  comes  into  direct  immediate  contact 
with  physical  things.  Between  him  and  objects, 
taking  the  latter  in  the  abstract  sense  of  material 
things,  there  intervenes  a  medium  of  social  customs, 
opinions,  suggestions,  fashions,  and  taboos.  At  the 
point  of  uncertainty  in  face  of  a  novel  situation  the 

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PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

process  of  deliberation  is  in  large  part  that  of  recalling 
concrete  social  experiences,  and  thus  attempting  to 
formulate  into  clearness  an  appropriate  idea  of  the 
best  conduct  for  the  present  emergency.  Professor 
Cooley  has  shown  that  all  thinking  takes  place  in  this 
social  medium  and  is  conditioned  by  it.  "In  fact, 
thought  and  personal  intercourse  may  be  regarded  as 
merely  aspects  of  the  same  thing;  we  call  it  personal 
intercourse  when  the  suggestions  that  keep  it  going 
are  received  through  faces  or  other  symbols  present 
to  the  senses;  reflection  when  the  personal  suggestions 
come  through  memory  and  are  more  elaborately 
worked  over  in  thought.  Both  are  mental,  both  are 
personal."  ^ 

Ideas  or  concepts  may  be  regarded,  then,  as  abbre- 
viated shorthand  symbols  of  the  longer,  more  com- 
plete systems  of  motor  activities  and  adjustments. 
Biologically  and  genetically  they  are  late  and  second- 
ary developments.  It  is  particularly  important  to 
note  here  that  so  long  as  they  remain  normal  and  ful- 
fill their  true  and  proper  functions,  these  ideas  retain 
their  dynamic  character.  So  long  as  they  have  the 
tendency  to  initiate  their  accustomed  attitudes  and 
to  project  themselves  to  the  full  measure  of  the  con- 
duct implicit  in  them;  so  long,  that  is,  as  they  are 
vital  and  have  a  felt  value  or  meaning,  so  long  are 
they  live  ideas  and  belong  to  live  propositions  and  to 
actual,  practical  interests.  Recent  psychology  re- 
cognizes this  motor  phase  of  consciousness  in  the 
changes  which  ideas  undergo.  Concepts  are  regarded 
as  in  constant  flux,  with  the  actual  life  of  the  individ- 
1  C.  H.  Cooley,  Human  Nature  and  the  Social  Order,  p.  61. 

308 


IDEAS  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ual  and  of  society.    The  meanings  of  words  change. 
They  change  as  occupations,  customs,  and  environment 
change;  that  is,  they  vary  as  the  activities  or  habits 
which  they  signify  are  altered.    They  consequently 
have  different  meanings  for  different  individuals,  and 
for  the  same  person  in  various  stages  of  development. 
Before  the  days  of  machinery  the  term  "manufac- 
turer" held  its  original   etymological    meaning,  and 
designated  the  individual  who  made  things  with  his 
own  hands.    In  the  eighteenth  century,  with  the  de- 
velopment of  machines,  the  factory  system  removed 
the  laborers  from  their  homes  into  shops,  under  the 
employment  and  direction  of  capitalists.     Since  the 
capitalists  controlled  the  system,  determining  the  pro- 
cesses employed  and  possessing  ownership  of  the  output 
of  the  shops,  they  came  to  be  known  as  the  manu- 
facturers, although  they  no  longer  worked  with  their 
hands.  Those  who  had  formerly  been  called  manu- 
facturers came  to  be  known  simply  as  workmen  or 
laborers.   The  gradual  development  of  new  social  in- 
stitutions and  business  customs  registered  themselves 
in  this  new  growth  of  the  concept.    In  a  similar  way 
the  concept  of  "courage"  has  changed  in  dependence 
upon  the  underlying,  controlling  forces  of  social  habit 
and  readjustment.    In  simple  social  conditions,  when 
the  will  to  Hve  involved  personal,  physical  conflict 
with  human  beings  and  the  elements  of  nature,  cour- 
age designated  the  willingness  to  face  enemies  and 
obstacles  in  reliance  upon  one's  own  strength  and 
prowess.    In  organized   societies  courage  means  de- 
votion to  the  common  good  with  the  prompt  and 
patient  readiness  to  suffer  various  private  ills  for  the 

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PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

public  welfare.  In  modern  life  men  who  follow  scien- 
tific inquiries  or  deal  with  changing  social  interests 
are  often  called  upon  to  advocate  ideals  in  opposition 
to  the  customs  and  opinions  of  their  friends  more 
than  to  resist  the  attacks  of  enemies.  The  idea  of 
courage  which  results  includes  this  positive  construc- 
tive attitude  of  intellectual  and  moral  fearlessness  in 
the  face  of  both  friends  and  foes.  Illustrations  might 
be  indefinitely  multiplied  to  show  that  ideas  are  in 
this  respect  secondary  phenomena,  and  that  they 
serve  to  register  experience.  The  experience  itself 
arises  from  the  propulsive,  instinctive  tendencies  of 
the  organism.  When  once  attained  such  ideas  serve 
the  invaluable  purpose  of  controlling  and  directing 
further  effort.  There  is  consequently  a  constant  in- 
teraction between  impulses  and  ideas,  between  new 
demands  for  adjustment  and  the  established  habits  re- 
presented by  developed  ideas  or  concepts. 

Sabatier  has  applied  this  principle  to  the  estimate 
of  theological  ideas.  To  feel  the  vital  meaning  of  the 
theological  terms  and  to  see  the  process  by  which  they 
are  modified  one  must  take  them  in  actual  use.  "Just 
as  the  life  of  a  language  does  not  lie  in  the  sonorousness 
of  words  or  in  the  correctness  of  phrases,  but  only  in 
the  secret  energy  of  the  thought  and  in  the  genius  of 
the  people  who  speak  it,  so  the  principle  of  the  life  of 
dogmas  must  not  be  sought  in  the  logic  of  ideas  or  in 
the  more  or  less  exact  theoretic  formulas,  but  only 
in  the  religious  life  itself,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  practi- 
cal piety  of  the  church  which  professes  them."  ^  This 
writer  represents  the  authors  of  the  historic  dogmas  of 
^  Auguste  Sabatier,  The  Vitality  of  Christian  Dogmas,  pp.  21  f. 

310 


IDEAS  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  church  not  "as  theorists,  or  even  as  theologians 
by  profession,  gathered  together  solely  by  the  im- 
pulse of  speculative  zeal  to  resolve  metaphysical 
enigmas.  They  were  men  of  action  and  not  of  specu- 
lation." In  order  therefore  to  understand  their  ideas, 
it  is  necessary  to  appreciate  the  practical  activities 
and  tendencies  with  which  they  were  engaged. 

The  place  and  function  of  theological  ideas  in  the 
religious  consciousness  may  be  further  developed  in 
terms  of  the  idea  of  God,  which  is  the  central  and  deter- 
mining conception  in  most  theological  systems.  We 
have  seen  that  among  primitive  peoples  the  gods  are 
the  central  objects  in  the  life  processes  of  man.  In 
the  more  developed  civilizations  the  gods  become 
quite  exclusively  anthropomorphic  and  reflect  in- 
creasingly the  social  and  political  experiences  of  the 
people.  Thus  Robertson  Smith  observes:  "What  is 
often  described  as  the  natural  tendency  of  Semitic 
religion  toward  ethical  monotheism,  is  in  the  main 
nothing  more  than  a  consequence  of  the  alliance  of 
religion  with  monarchy."  The  relation  is  still  more 
immediate  than  this.  The  forms  of  religious  thought 
are  the  direct  reflection  of  the  political  and  social 
organization.  The  characteristics  of  monarchical 
government  are  reflected  in  the  transcendence  and  in 
the  paternalism  of  the  Deity.  The  king  lives  apart 
from  his  people.  He  is  surrounded  by  many  couriers 
and  guards.  His  edicts  are  issued  through  a  series  of 
subordinates.  He  is  approached  with  diflSculty  and  by 
various  intermediaries.  What  he  does  for  his  subjects 
is  done  under  seemingly  arbitrary  laws.  On  occasion 
he  may  act  by  special  dispensation.   But  whether  he 

311 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

acts  by  law  or  by  grace  his  gifts  are  the  favors  of 
a  superior  being  bestowed  upon  those  who  could  not 
demand  them.  He  keeps  his  own  counsels,  working 
secretly  and  mysteriously.  Whatever  he  deigns  to 
reveal  of  his  nature  and  wisdom  is  his  own  free  act. 

Contrast  this  idea  of  God  with  that  which  expresses 
democratic  social  conditions.  Here  individuals  assert 
themselves  with  freedom  and  initiative.  They  pos- 
sess sovereignty  in  their  own  right  and  power.  Their 
representatives  in  government  are  like  themselves. 
They  are  exalted  to  office  by  the  popular  will  and  are 
held  accountable  to  their  fellow  citizens.  In  the  same 
manner,  the  relations  between  individuals  in  private 
life  are  theoretically  and  ideally,  at  least,  determined 
by  mutual  agreements,  by  free  contracts  and  volun- 
tary choice.  The  appeal  from  the  judgment  of  an 
individual  or  of  a  class  must  be  made  to  other  indi- 
viduals and  to  all  the  members  of  the  community, 
as  represented  in  the  processes  of  the  creation  and 
administration  of  popular  government.  The  ideal  de- 
manded is  not  that  of  special  favor,  which  character- 
izes a  paternal  order  of  society;  but  it  is  rather  the 
ideal  of  justice  and  equality.  The  final  tribunal  is 
the  intelligence,  experience,  and  sense  of  fair  play  in 
the  masses  of  the  people.  When  such  a  social  order 
projects  itself  in  the  form  of  conscious  and  compre- 
hensive ideas  it  results  in  a  conception  of  God  as  im- 
manent. The  inner  reason  and  conscience  of  society,  by 
which  justice  is  sought,  defended,  and  avenged,  now 
appears  as  the  central  factor  in  the  idea  of  God.  The 
idea  which  was  formerly  dominated  by  the  functions 
of  the  sovereign  and  the  parent  now  embodies  the  spirit 

312 


IDEAS  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  justice  and  equity  manifested  in  the  aspiring  social 
consciousness  of  the  classes  and  masses  of  mankind. 

The  idea  of  God,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  live  idea  in  con- 
sciousness, carries  with  it  this  dynamic  character. 
The  attitudes  and  tendencies  which  it  sets  up  when 
brought  to  the  focus  of  attention  depend  upon  the 
social  relations  and  processes  which  operated  in  the 
formation  of  the  idea  in  the  individual  or  in  the  group 
from  which  he  derived  it.  A  person's  idea  of  God  may 
be  taken  as  comprehending  the  highest  ideal  interests 
known  or  felt  by  him.  It  stands  therefore  for  concrete 
purposeful  activity  and  effort  in  those  directions. 
Calling  this  idea  to  mind  means  putting  one's  self  in 
an  attitude  consistent  with  the  interests  which  con- 
trolled its  formation.  Therefore  in  a  despotic  society 
where  sovereignty  is  idealized,  to  think  of  God  means 
to  humble  one's  self,  to  take  on  the  postures  and  em- 
ploy the  phrases  which  a  menial  uses  in  the  presence 
of  his  lord.  The  ritual  and  psalms  of  many  orien- 
tal peoples  illustrate  this  type  of  reverence  and  wor- 
ship. But  where  the  idea  of  God  is  the  embodiment 
of  ideals  arising  from  democratic  social  movements, 
its  presence  in  the  mind  expresses  itself  in  motor  re- 
actions indicative  of  respect  for  the  welfare  of  all 
members  of  society.  The  thought  of  God  is  then  ac- 
companied by  impulses  toward  social  conduct.  In 
other  words  the  idea  of  God,  like  any  other  general 
idea,  signifies  a  system  of  habits,  and  in  this  case,  as 
elsewhere,  the  presence  of  the  idea  has  for  its  normal 
effect  the  initiation  of  those  habitual  attitudes  and 
endeavors. 

This  fact  concerning  the  idea  of  God  has  been  put 

313 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

in  a  striking  way  by  Professor  Leuba.  Upon  the  basis 
of  his  investigation  of  the  rehgious  experience  of 
various  persons  he  concludes:  "If  we  are  to  judge  by 
our  records,  it  would  seem  that  the  God  who  rises  up 
before  the  Protestant  Anglo-Saxon  in  his  religious 
moods  does  not  ordinarily  throw  him  on  his  knees. 
That  stage  appears  now  transcended.  God  has  re- 
mained for  him  the  bestower  of  the  things  he  wants, 
but  the  belief  that  adoration  is  an  effective  means  of 
obtaining  satisfaction  has  been  to  a  very  large  extent 
forgotten.  Could  this  be  the  result  of  experience.'^ 
However  that  may  be,  the  fact  is  that  when  God, 
conjured  up  by  his  needs,  appears  before  him,  his 
hands  stretch  forth  in  request  for  power  or  mercy, 
not  in  adoration.  And,  preposterous  as  it  may  seem, 
it  is  yet  true  that  he  cares  very  little  who  God  is,  or 
even  whether  He  is  at  all.  But  he  uses  Him,  instinc- 
tively, from  habit  if  not  from  a  rational  conviction 
in  His  existence,  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  better  de- 
sires, and  this  he  does  ordinarily  with  the  directness 
and  the  bluntness  of  the  aggressive  child  of  a  domi- 
neering century,  well-nigh  stranger  to  the  emotions 
of  fear,  of  awe,  and  of  reverence.  The  truth  of  the 
matter  may  be  put  this  way:  God  is  not  known,  He  is 
not  understood;  He  is  used — used  a  good  deal  and  with 
an  admirable  disregard  of  logical  consistency,  some- 
times as  meat  purveyor,  sometimes  as  moral  support, 
sometimes  as  friend,  sometimes  as  an  object  of  love."  ^ 
In  this  discovery  that  the  idea  of  God  is  not  so 
much  known  as  used  there  is  brought  to  light  that 

I      *  James  H.  Leuba,  "Contents  of  the  Religious  Consciousness,"  Mo- 
nist,  vol.  xi,  p.  571. 

814 


IDEAS   AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

which  this  idea  possesses  in  common  with  all  other 
ideas.  It  is  true  also  of  the  idea  of  the  "desk"  and  of 
the  idea  of  the  "city"  that  they  are  not  so  much 
known  as  used.  The  knowing  process,  wherever  it 
is  alive  and  urgent,  is  concerned  with  action,  with  the 
adjustment  of  means  to  ends.  Mere  contemplation 
or  analysis  or  syllogistic  manipulation  of  ideas  is 
empty  and  unsatisfying  when  divorced  from  practical 
interests.  It  is  in  their  use,  in  the  interplay  of  cog- 
nition and  action,  that  ideas  have  any  meaning  or  can 
be  understood.  It  is  in  this  living  process  also  that 
both  ideas  and  habits  change.  When  these  no  longer 
satisfy  the  felt  needs  of  society  they  are  transformed. 
Old  customs  and  their  corresponding  modes  of  thought 
are  constantly  being  discarded  under  the  influence 
of  new  shifts  of  interest.  Nowhere  is  this  more  appar- 
ent than  in  the  great  massive  movements  of  society 
and  in  the  comprehensive  ideas  of  God  in  which  these 
movements  are  symbolized.  This  active,  functional 
aspect  of  the  idea  of  God  is  thus  described  by  Pro- 
fessor James:  ^  "The  deity  to  whom  the  prophets, 
seers,  and  devotees  who  founded  the  particular  cult 
bore  witness  was  worth  something  to  them  personally. 
They  could  use  him.  He  guided  their  imagination, 
warranted  their  hopes  and  controlled  their  will;  or 
else  they  required  him  as  a  safeguard  against  the  de- 
mon and  a  curber  of  other  people's  crimes.  In  any 
case  they  chose  him  for  the  value  of  the  fruits  he 
seemed  to  them  to  yield.  So  soon  as  the  fruits  began 
to  seem  quite  worthless;  so  soon  as  they  conflicted 
with  indispensable  human  ideals,  or  thwarted  too 
^  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  329. 

315 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

extensively  other  values;  so  soon  as  they  appeared 
childish,  contemptible,  or  immoral  when  reflected  on, 
the  deity  grew  discredited  and  was  ere  long  neglected 
and  forgotten.  When  we  cease  to  admire  or  approve 
what  the  definition  of  a  deity  implies  we  end  by  deem- 
ing that  deity  incredible." 

It  would  be  possible  to  go  through  the  various  theo- 
logical ideas  and  doctrines  and  show  in  detail  how  they 
are  determined  in  form  and  content  by  the  experience 
of  the  individual  or  the  society  in  which  they  arise. 
The  Christian  doctrines  of  the  atonement  are  clearly 
illustrative  of  the  principle.  Anselm  took  the  rela- 
tion of  the  debtor  and  creditor,  and  in  these  terms 
elaborated  the  commercial  theory.  Grotius,  himself 
a  distinguished  jurist,  started  from  the  presupposi- 
tions of  the  legal  institutions  of  his  time,  and  developed 
the  governmental  theory  of  the  atonement.  In  the 
same  manner,  in  more  recent  times,  have  appeared 
the  modern  "penal  satisfaction  theory,"  "the  ethical 
satisfaction  theory  "  and  "the  moral  influence  theory." 
It  is  not  to  be  thought  that  this  process  is  complete. 
Many  new  forms  of  social  organization  and  regulation 
might  be  taken  as  the  basis  for  other  doctrines  of  the 
atonement.  Modern  missionary  enterprises,  labor 
unions,  scientific  experimentation  and  exploration 
might  afford  outlines  upon  which  selected  scripture 
passages  could  be  arrayed  with  genuine  and  convinc- 
ing arguments.  They  might  also  penetrate  as  deeply 
into  the  mystery  of  the  problems  as  any  historic 
theories  have  done. 

The  psychology  of  ideation  appears  from  this  to 
have  important  bearing  upon  the  meaning  of  the  truth 

316 


IDEAS  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  ideas.  So  long  as  the  idea  is  held  closely  to  the  habit 
or  system  of  conduct  which  it  signifies,  then  its  truth 
is  that  of  a  record  of  experience  or  of  a  plan  of  action. 
It  is  true  as  a  symbol  of  past  experience,  or  it  is  true 
as  a  guide  for  further  adjustment.  The  chief  diffi- 
culties concerning  the  truth  of  ideas  arise  from  at- 
tempts to  estimate  their  validity  out  of  relation  to 
the  only  situations  in  which  they  can  be  true  or  false, 
that  is  the  situations  involving  conduct.  The  idea  of 
God  has  been  treated  in  this  way.  It  has  been  taken 
apart  from  the  social  experiences  and  the  genetic 
processes  in  which  it  arose,  and  then  has  been  sub- 
jected to  various  ingenious  manipulations  to  deter- 
mine whether  it  be  true!  It  is  somewhat  comparable 
to  seeking  the  meaning  of  a  word  after  removing  it 
from  any  context  by  repeating  the  sound,  counting 
the  letters,  or  analyzing  the  ink  with  which  it  is  writ- 
ten. The  mediaeval  and  Cartesian  arguments  for  the 
"being  of  God"  are  largely  just  such  inapt  endeavors. 
As  Kant  demonstrated,  they  are  full  of  fallacies  and 
labor  in  vain  to  produce  the  desired  results.  No  such 
static,  transcendent,  non-empirical  reality  is  conceiv- 
able by  us:  much  less  are  its  existence  and  nature 
demonstrable.  The  psychological  solution  of  the  dif- 
ficulty lies  in  another  direction,  as  already  indicated. 
Perhaps  the  case  is  analogous  to  the  experience  of  a 
child  who  looks  behind  the  mirror  for  the  reality 
answering  to  the  image  which  he  sees.  Before  he  can 
solve  the  puzzle  of  the  reflected  image  he  must  seek 
for  it  in  another  place  and  by  a  different  method. 
The  reality  to  which  the  image  leads  is  not  within  the 
image  alone,  as  phenomenalism  might  say;  neither 

317 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

is  it  behind  and  beyond  the  mirror  as  the  reaHst  and 
the  absolute  idealist  might  say;  but  it  lies  on  this  side 
of  the  mirror,  within  the  actual  world  of  men  and 
things.  The  idea  of  God,  when  seriously  employed, 
serves  to  generalize  and  to  idealize  all  the  values  one 
knows.  Our  actual  interests  move  in  the  social  world 
and  within  the  vast  order  of  nature.  In  the  simplest 
reflections  upon  the  facts  of  life  one  is  led  deep  into 
the  labj^'inth  of  the  natural  and  of  the  human  worlds. 
The  idea  which  gathers  into  itself  the  interests  and 
values  of  our  daily  concerns  must  therefore  signify 
what  are  for  us  the  greatest  realities  in  nature  and 
in  human  experience.  To  the  plain  man  as  he  uses  the 
idea  of  God,  in  contrast  with  a  passive  formal  atti- 
tude toward  it,  the  idea  involves  a  living  process, 
law  or  movement,  in  the  working  of  which  human 
needs  are  satisfied,  justice  and  truth  established,  and 
distant  ideals  attained.  Even  the  oath  of  the  profane 
man  has  an  echo  of  the  tremendous  dynamic  force  of 
the  word.  It  is  the  biggest  word  he  knows.  The  reality 
answering  to  the  idea  of  God,  it  may  be  said,  must 
include,  at  its  best,  all  that  is  involved  in  the  deep 
instinctive  historical  and  social  consciousness  of  the 
race.  It  signifies  the  justice  which  government  sym- 
bolizes, the  truth  which  science  unfolds,  and  the 
beauty  which  art  strives  to  express.  The  "attributes" 
in  the  conception  of  God  are  as  numerous  as  the  ideal 
interests  of  those  who  use  it,  for  it  signifies  the  to- 
tality of  our  purposes  and  values. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  God-idea  belongs 
peculiarly  to  the  realm  of  values  rather  than  desig- 
nating factual  reality.    But  the  distinction  between 

318 


IDEAS  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

value-judgments  and  factual- judgments  is  not  abso- 
lute. That  it  is  a  relative  distinction  may  be  seen  in 
the  universal  and  inherently  teleological  character  of 
thought.  All  thinking  is  normally  purposive.  Only 
when  extremely  abstract  and  partial  can  it  be  char- 
acterized as  merely  descriptive  and  factual.  Again 
the  God-idea  is  formed  in  terms  of  personality.  And 
the  conception  of  personality  involves  primarily  pur- 
posive action,  not  static  being.  The  character  of  a 
person  cannot  be  thought  of  except  in  terms  of  what 
he  does.  The  idea  of  a  supreme  Person  necessarily  in- 
volves in  the  highest  degree  the  element  of  will,  of 
purpose  and  of  movement  toward  great  goals.  It  is 
a  contradiction  in  terms  to  conceive  a  person  as  mere 
existence,  that  is,  as  fact  simply.  The  historic  at- 
tempts to  think  the  God-idea  in  this  way  have  re- 
sulted in  abundant  inconsistencies.  But  the  readiness 
to  think  of  a  dualistic  world  in  which  a  realm  of  pur- 
pose and  a  realm  of  fact  exist  together  is  also  prolific 
of  contradictions.  The  only  kind  of  thinking  of  which 
human  beings  are  capable  is  that  which  refers  to  ends, 
to  needs,  to  values.  The  God-idea  is  a  teleological 
idea,  and  in  being  such  it  shares  fundamentally  in  the 
nature  of  all  ideas.  For  actual  human  experience  there 
are  no  other  normal  ideational  processes  than  those 
which  involve  value.  ^ 

The  nature  and  place  of  ideas  in  the  religious  con- 
sciousness include  the  question  of  the  relation  of 
theory  and  practice,  of  doctrine  and  life.  After  what 
has  been  said  of  the  reciprocal  relation  of  conduct  and 

^  A.  K.  Rogers,  The  Religious  Conception  of  the  World,  p.  117.  The 
whole  chapter  on  "The  Argument  for  Purpose"  bears  upon  this  point. 

319 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ideas  it  is  not  necessary  to  add  much  here.    The  ef- 
fective criticism  of  doctrine  as  abstruse,  academic,  and 
fruitless  is  valid  chiefly  against  obsolete  or  otherwise 
irrelevant  doctrines.  All  efficient  practice,  on  the  con- 
trary, if  it  is  anything  more  than  rule-of-thumb  cus- 
tom, requires  a  clear  and  well  articulated  body  of 
principles  or  doctrines.    The  scientific  developments 
of  this  age  and  the  increasingly  successful  applica- 
tion of  theory  in  practice  of  all  kinds  are  rapidly  com- 
pelling theory  and  practice  to  recognize  each   other 
as  indispensable.    This  is  recognized  in  the  realms  of 
moral  conduct  and  social  progress  with  deeper  in- 
sight than  formerly.    Religion  has  greater  difficulty 
here  than  other  forms  of  social  experience  because  in 
Christianity  at  least,  doctrines  have  been  supposed 
to  partake  more  rigidly  of  the  nature  of  fixed  and 
final  truths.    The  Church  cannot  be  said  to  have  yet 
accepted  with  any  thoroughness  the  scientific  and  psy- 
chological view  of  all  doctrines,  namely,  that  they  are 
working  hypotheses,  subject  to  constant  modification 
and  revision  in   the  light  of  further  experience  and 
reflection.  But  not  until  such  a  view  is  accepted  can 
religion  become  domesticated  in  the  modern  world 
and  overcome  the  inner  conflict  which  now  crassly 
separates  faith  and  knowledge  from  each  other  and 
in  large  measure  separates  both  from  concrete  expe- 
rience. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

FEELING   AND   RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

In  the  reaction  from  intellectualism  with  its  ma- 
chinery of  concepts  and  syllogisms  there  has  been  a 
remarkable  insistence  that  feeling  is  the  central  fac- 
tor of  religious  experience.  Professors  Starbuck  and 
Pratt,  developing  certain  suggestions  of  Professor 
James,  have  attempted  to  give  scientific  justification 
to  this  point  of  view. 

Professor  Starbuck  ^  sets  the  affective  life  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  cognitive  processes,  and  makes  feeling 
a  direct  source  of  knowledge,  independent  of  intel- 
lectual cognition.  His  position  may  be  summarized 
as  follows.  Knowledge  has  to  do  with  objective 
facts  and  relations.  In  religion  the  intellectual,  idea- 
tional, rational  cognitive  processes  perform  only  a 
mere  by-play.  These  means  of  knowledge,  in  all 
science  and  philosophy,  are  finally  subjected  to  a  sort 
of  intuition  or  feeling  of  worth.  It  is  natural  there- 
fore that  in  religion  also  the  final  appeal  should  be  to 
feeling.  Religion  is  a  feeling  adjustment  to  the  deeper 
things  of  life,  and  to  the  larger  reality  that  encom- 
passes the  personal  life.  There  can  be,  however,  no 
statement  of  the  nature  of  this  larger  reality  in  cog- 
nitive terms.    It  is  necessary  to  trust  the  reports  of 

1  E.  D.  Starbuck,  "The  Feelings  and  their  Place  in  Religion,"  The 
American  Journal  of  Religious  Psychology  and  Education,  vol.  i,  1904, 
pp.  168-186. 

S21 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

religion  within  the  affective  experience  itself,  for  it  is 
not  pertinent  to  ask  for  any  cognitive  description  of  it. 

The  nervous  mechanisms  of  the  cognitive  and  af- 
fective processes  are  different.  The  mechanism  for 
the  cognitive-intellectual  group  of  activities  is  the 
central  nervous  system  and  that  of  feeling  is  the  sym- 
pathetic nervous  system.  This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  the  individual  is  liable  to  be  torn  between  two 
contending  worlds,  between  science  and  religion,  be- 
tween mysticism  and  worldly  wisdom,  that  is,  between 
the  lower  and  external  world  and  the  inward  spirit- 
ual life. 

Professor  Pratt  ^  accepts  this  opposition  of  the 
cognitive  and  feeling  elements  in  consciousness,  but 
does  not  go  so  far  as  to  assign  to  each  a  special  ner- 
vous mechanism.  Starting  with  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  "centre"  and  "fringe"  of  consciousness  as 
described  by  James,  the  author  finds  in  them  two 
chief  divisions  of  consciousness,  two  principal  kinds 
of  psychic  stuff.  One  of  these  consists  of  the  definite, 
describable,  communicable  elements  of  consciousness; 
the  rational,  the  cognitive,  the  representative;  the 
material  which  may  be  made  public  property  by 
means  of  scientific  and  exact  description.  The  other 
class  is  made  up  of  the  indefinite,  the  indescribable, 
the  peculiarly  private  mass  of  subjective  experiences 
which  by  their  very  nature  are  not  susceptible  of 
communication,  and  which  to  be  exactly  described 
must  be  made  over  so  as  to  lose  their  character- 
istic quality  and  cease  to  be  what  they  were;  the 
conscious  material  that  refers  to  nothing  but  it- 
'  James  B.  Pratt,  The  Psychology  of  Religious  Belief,  chapter  i. 

322 


FEELING  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

self,  has  no  outer  reference,  does  not  pretend  to  be 
representative,  stands  for  itself  alone.  In  further 
characterization  of  the  fringe  or  feeling  background 
it  is  said  to  be  in  intimate  and  direct  relation  to  the 
life  of  the  organism.  The  instinctive  desires  and  im- 
pulses have  their  roots  in  this  feeling  background. 
This  is  the  primary,  elementary  form  of  consciousness 
and  is  the  original  continuum  or  matrix  out  of  which 
the  various  forms  of  sensation  and  ideation  arise. 
Yet  Professor  Pratt  admits  some  hesitancy  in  this 
contrast  and  hastens  to  add  that  he  is  really  contend- 
ing that  the  whole  man  must  be  trusted  as  against 
any  small  portion  of  his  nature,  such  as  reason  or 
perception.  The  contrast  is  true  only  in  analytic 
abstraction.  In  actual  experience  ideation  and  sen- 
sory experience  and  the  feeling  background  are  never 
found  isolated  from  each  other,  but  together  they 
form  a  unity  which  is  our  conscious  life. 

This  affective  consciousness  appears  in  three  char- 
acteristic stages,  primitive  credulity,  intellectual  be- 
lief, and  emotional  belief.  These  the  author  seeks  to 
illustrate  from  various  types  of  historical  religious 
development.  Within  mature  minds  of  the  Christian 
faith  he  finds  the  three  stages.  Primitive  credulity 
is  represented  by  those  who  accept  unquestioningly 
the  authority  of  the  Bible  or  of  their  religious  instruc- 
tors without  hesitancy.  Intellectual  belief  occurs  in 
those  who  flatter  themselves  that  they  have  argu- 
ments and  reasons  for  what  they  believe,  even  if  the 
arguments  are  specious  and  extremely  fallacious.  These 
persons  are  likely  to  decry  all  emotionalism  and  to 
insist  upon  a  matter-of-fact,  literal,  and  rationalistic 

323 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

demonstration.  The  third  type,  according  to  Pro- 
fessor Pratt,  is  dominated  and  controlled  by  a  touch 
of  mysticism.  Belief  in  God  and  devotion  to  the  re- 
ligious life  is  here  ascribed  to  experience  of  God's  pre- 
sence, to  the  revival  of  childhood  impressions,  to  one's 
immediate  consciousness  of  God,  to  the  illumination, 
assurance,  and  quickening  of  energy  which  one  feels 
in  moments  of  stress  or  exaltation.  It  is  this  type  of 
person  in  which  the  author  finds  the  highest  and 
truest  form  of  religious  consciousness.  In  them  the 
affective,  mystical  experience  greatly  preponderates 
over  reason  and  authority  and  is  felt  by  many  to  be 
in  sharp  contrast  to  any  intellectual  or  institutional 
interests. 

In  criticism  of  the  main  contention  of  these  authors 
it  will  be  sufficient  to  summarize  the  assumption 
and  inconsistencies  of  their  position.  This  negative 
criticism  will  be  followed  by  a  constructive  statement 
of  the  place  and  significance  of  feeling  in  the  total 
religious  experience. 

The  assumption  of  Starbuck  that  the  central  ner- 
vous system  and  the  sympathetic  nervous  system 
are  quite  distinct  in  their  structure  and  function  is 
not  supported  by  the  investigations  of  neurologists. 
''We  now  know,"  writes  one  of  these  authorities, 
"that  this  (sympathetic)  system  consists  of  a  series 
of  ganglia  or  collections  of  nerve  cells  connected  with 
each  other  and  connected  also  with  the  spinal  nerves." » 
The  exact  relation  between  them  and  the  problem  of 
their  interaction  is  not  understood.    But  there  is  no 

1  W.  H.  Howell,  Text-book  of  Phjsiology,  p.  231.  Cf.  C.  S.  Sherring- 
ton, The  Integrative  Action  oj  the  Nervous  System,  pp.  255-268. 

324 


FEELING  AND   RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

basis  for  the  assumption  that  they  function  separately. 
Much  less  is  this  assumption  justified  when  the  al- 
leged facts  which  it  is  invoked  to  explain  are  them- 
selves in  doubt. 

Both  Starbuck  and  Pratt  hesitate  to  commit  them- 
selves to  the  view  that  the  facts  introspectively  con- 
sidered show  that  feeling  and  cognition  are  entirely 
distinct.  The  latter  refers  to  ideation  as  developing 
out  of  the  feeling  background,  and  to  this  background 
as  being  affected  by  all  our  thoughts.  Starbuck  holds 
that  ideation  must  be  tested  by  a  feeling  or  intuition 
of  value  and  that  the  "knowledge"  derived  from  the 
affective  life  must  be  submitted  to  the  criticism  of 
reason.  Both  fail  to  discriminate  between  feeling  and 
the  subconscious,  although  there  is  evidence  that  the 
subconscious  cannot  properly  be  taken  as  identical 
with  affective  experience.  Both  admit  quite  expli- 
citly that  feeling  is  itself  secondary  and  derivative 
with  reference  to  the  "tendency  toward  reaction,*' 
or  as  the  other  states  it,  the  "hereditary  and  instinc- 
tive tendencies."  That  which  they  characterize  as 
the  background,  the  hidden  depths,  the  organic  ac- 
tivity, is  rightly  admitted  now  and  then  by  both  to 
be  the  underlying  unity  within  which,  upon  reflec- 
tive analysis,  feeling  and  ideation  are  discriminated. 
This,  however,  is  far  from  establishing  any  final 
alienation  between  the  affective  and  cognitive  pro- 
cesses, and  from  proving  the  superiority  of  the  former. 

This  admission  of  dynamic,  instinctive  adjustment 
as  the  most  original  and  fundamental  characteristic 
of  human  life  is  the  principle  upon  which  modern 
psychologists  increasingly  agree.     From  this  stand- 

325 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

point  a  statement  of  the  place  and  function  of  the 
affective  processes  is  possible  without  confusing  them 
with  the  total  instinctive  nature  and  without  sub- 
ordinating them  to  intellectual  functions.  The  re- 
action from  the  older  rationalism  is  shared  by  all 
parties.  But  the  alternative  is  not  the  adoption  of 
the  view  that  the  feelings  are  the  most  basic  and  im- 
portant factors  in  experience.  All  that  is  said  con- 
cerning the  small  part  which  clear  ideas  have  in  con- 
duct as  compared  with  habit,  impulse,  instinct,  and 
the  subconscious  may  be  accepted.  But  this  does  not 
necessarily  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  feeling  is  the 
proper  term  to  apply  to  all  that  is  non-ideational. 
What,  then,  is  the  relation  of  feeling  to  the  total  hu- 
man experience  .f' 

The  James-Lange  theory  of  the  emotions,  with  the 
further  developments  suggested  by  its  critics,  affords 
an  illuminating  answer  to  this  question.  According  to 
this  theory,  the  emotion  is  the  feeling  involved  in  the 
different  types  of  action  elicited  in  a  given  situation 
or  with  reference  to  a  certain  object.  According  to 
James  "we  feel  sorry  because  we  cry,  angry  because 
we  strike,  afraid  because  we  tremble."  The  emotion 
therefore  follows  upon  the  activity  and  is  the  feeling 
of  the  bodily  changes  involved  in  the  activity.  Pro- 
fessor Dewey  has  pointed  out  that  the  case  is  more 
complex  than  this,  being  complicated  by  incipient 
tendencies  to  react  in  different  ways  in  a  given  situa- 
tion. The  inherited  nervous  mechanism  of  man  is  the 
carrier  of  various  organized  systems  of  reaction  formed 
in  the  long  struggle  for  existence.  On  occasion  of 
meeting  a  bear  there  are  tendencies  to  run  away  and 

326 


FEELING   AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

also  to  stand  and  fight.  These  tendencies  conflict  and 
thus  inhibit  or  hinder  each  other.  In  other  words,  there 
is  uncertainty  and  hesitation  in  the  execution  of  any 
one  reaction.  This  vacillation  and  inner  tension  is 
felt  as  the  emotion  of  fear  or  of  courage  according  to 
the  course  of  action  which  predominates.  In  grief  the 
disintegrating,  dissolving  relaxations  are  met  by  the 
returning  sense  that  the  evil  condition  cannot  be  real 
and  by  the  momentary  disposition  to  act  in  accord- 
ance with  the  happier  conditions  which  one  cannot 
now  believe  are  impossible.  The  emotion  of  joy  like- 
wise is  the  accompaniment  of  activities  which  al- 
ternate with  the  rise  and  resurgence  of  their  dread 
opposites.  It  is  the  victory  narrowly  achieved  which 
gives  greatest  satisfaction.  Even  the  memory  of  a 
triumph  is  pale  unless  set  off  against  the  distressing 
possibilities  which  defeat  would  have  made  real. 

In  all  such  experiences  it  is  plain  that  feeling  de- 
pends upon  activities  of  the  organism.  The  activi- 
ties themselves  are  instinctive  and  organic.  They 
arise  within  the  life  process  in  the  course  of  the  ad- 
justment which  it  involves.  Feeling  is  secondary  to 
these.  The  "background"  out  of  which  the  clearer 
ideas  are  generated  and  which  constitutes  so  large 
a  part  of  all  experience,  is  a  background  of  impulsive, 
instinctive,  habitual,  and  teleological  activity.  In  its 
most  thoroughly  organized  and  harmonious  move- 
ments it  may  be  characterized  as  a  vegetative-motor 
adjustment,  accompanied  only  by  sense-feelings. 
With  the  advance  of  experience  into  novel  and  com- 
plex situations,  the  adjustment  becomes  more  intri- 
cate and  the  conflict  of  various  types  of  action  pro- 

327 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

duces  the  class  of  feelings  designated  as  emotions. 
And  further,  in  the  terminology  of  Professor  Dewey,  ^ 
when  action  is  unified  and  undisturbed  in  the  realiza- 
tion of  a  given  end,  the  feeling  involved  may  be  desig- 
nated as  interest.  In  every  case,  whatever  type  of 
feeling  is  experienced,  it  involves  and  is  conditioned 
by  activity. 

The  function  of  feeling  in  the  total  experience  may 
be  stated  as  that  of  a  sign  of  the  value  of  the  activity 
in  which  the  organism  is  engaged.  Feeling  is  either 
agreeable  or  disagreeable  or  a  mixture  of  both,  as  in 
emotion.  Agreeable  feelings  attend  the  successful, 
life-fulfilling  operations  of  the  organism.  Under  nor- 
mal conditions,  eating  food  when  hungry,  exercising 
well-toned  muscles,  pursuing  one's  chosen  occupation 
afford  pleasure.  Disagreeable  feelings  accompany  in- 
hibiting, disintegrating,  unsuccessful  experiences.  Ex- 
treme hunger,  over-fatigue,  loss  of  business  or  prestige, 
produce  the  danger  signal  of  pain.  The  emotions, 
as  has  been  shown,  belong  to  experiences  in  which 
there  is  confusion,  hesitance,  and  conflict  of  tenden- 
cies to  action.  They  demand  energy,  reflection,  and 
further  action  to  eliminate  the  disturbance  and  to 
attain  control  of  the  situation  in  which  the  tension 
arose.  Feeling  is  not,  then,  an  independent,  original 
factor  of  experience,  nor  is  it  a  proper  end  in  itself.  It 
has  its  place  within  the  larger  process  of  activity 
and  adjustment.  Like  the  ideational  phases  of  con- 
duct it  springs  from  and  points  forward  to  movement. 
Feeling  discloses  the  harmony  or  discord  of  movement 

1  John  Dewey,  "Theory  of  the  Emotions,"  Psychological  Review, 
vol.  i,  p.  553;  vol.  ii,  p.  13. 

328 


FEELING  AND  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  properly  tends  to  facilitate  pleasurable  and  to 
inhibit  painful  movements.  It  is  not  therefore  a  legiti- 
mate objective  of  conduct.  The  critics  of  hedonism 
have  sufficiently  displayed  the  paradox  that  pleasure 
cannot  be  gained  by  any  direct  effort  to  secure  it. 
It  is  always  found  as  an  accompaniment.  He  who 
plays  the  game  for  pleasure,  introspectively  appraising 
his  satisfaction  at  every  point,  is  likely  to  lose  both 
the  game  and  the  fun.  It  is  only  w^hen  the  activity  is 
self -forgetting  in  its  harmonized  and  unified  expression 
that  it  affords  the  quality  of  pleasurable  feeling.  The 
attempt  to  seize  the  pleasure  and  to  prolong  it  on  its 
own  account  eventually  destroys  the  conditioning 
process  from  which  alone  it  can  arise.  The  natural  issue 
of  sensualism  and  sentimentalism  is  therefore  the  ul- 
timate corruption  and  devitalization  of  the  organism 
or  institution  which  practices  them.  Wherever  feeling 
is  consciously  or  unconsciously  made  the  uppermost 
factor  in  conduct,  it  defeats  itself  by  the  deterioration 
of  the  structures  and  functions  employed  to  produce 
it. 

It  is  evident  that  the  most  intense  feelings  accom- 
pany the  most  vital  experiences.  The  pleasures  of 
food  and  the  pains  of  hunger  or  othm- bodily  distress 
are  rudimentary  and  acute.  Likewise-t!ie  joy  of  social 
approval  in  one's  set  and  the  sting  of  disgrace  among 
one's  peers  have  great  biological  depths  and  dimen- 
sions. Those  social  functions  in  which  these  interests 
are  projected  upon  a  vast  scale  and  with  corresponding 
intensity  are  therefore  calculated  to  produce  extreme 
phenomena  of  an  affective  character.  And  it  is  just 
because  religion  involves  these  immense  concerns  of 

329 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

individual  and  social  welfare  that  it  is  characterized 
by  intense  feeling,  particularly  of  the  emotional  type. 
These  central  interests  of  the  individual  and  of  society 
are  not  the  result  of  intellectual  activity.  They  do  not 
issue  from  doctrinal  systems.  Thus  far  the  critics  of 
rationalism  and  intellectualism  are  right.  It  is  true 
that  as  compared  to  the  total  religious  experience  of 
mankind,  the  clear  theological  ideas  and  doctrines  are 
but  as  the  peak  of  the  iceberg  to  the  vast  bulk  hidden 
beneath  the  surface.  But  it  is  a  mistaken  conclusion 
that  the  non-intellectual  factors  of  religion  are  chiefly 
the  feelings,  or  that  the  feelings  are  original  and  basic 
among  these  non-rational  factors.  Both  intellectual 
and  affective  elements  in  religious  experience  are 
secondary  to  and  conditioned  upon  instinctive  ac- 
tivity, —  habit,  custom,  imitation,  —  and  the  inter- 
play of  various  types  of  such  activity.  This  may  be 
clearly  seen  in  the  development  of  religious  phenomena 
under  the  influence  of  suggestion,  especially  in  the 
excitement  of  the  crowd.  The  method  of  awakening 
the  crowd  is  certainly  not  that  of  reasoning,  argu- 
mentation, analysis,  and  systematic  thinking.  But 
neither  is  it  that  of  transferring  or  eliciting  feeling 
without  an  intermediate  process.  That  mediating,  con- 
ditioning process  is  the  awakening  of  instinctive,  deep- 
seated  impulses.  The  stirring,  inciting  means  of  arous- 
ing the  crowd  are  suggestive,  dynamic  representations 
of  the  attitudes  and  experiences  with  which  the  crowd 
is  to  be  inoculated.  If  the  mass  can  be  stimulated  to 
certain  rudimentary  reactions,  then  they  share  in  the 
accompanying  states  of  feeling.  It  is  a  matter  of  com- 
mon observation  that  the  extreme  emotionalism  of  the 

330 


FEELING  AND  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

modern  religious  revival  is  caused  by  fascinating  the 
attention  with  certain  dynamic  images  which  neces- 
sarily result  in  tensions  and  reactions  of  a  violent  na- 
ture. The  phenomena  are  simplest  and  crudest  among 
primitive  peoples  and  among  children  between  ten 
and  twenty.  But  the  principle  operates  in  the  same 
manner  among  civilized  persons  and  with  those  of 
mature  years.  Thinking  of  the  dentist  boring  into 
one's  teeth  sets  one's  muscles  and  puts  one  "on  edge'* 
generally.  The  sight  of  luscious  fruit,  when  one  has  an 
appetite  for  it,  makes  the  mouth  water.  Similarly 
the  symbols  of  infinity  may  increase  the  heart-beat 
and  deepen  the  breathing,  while  pictures  of  suffering 
innocence  throw  one  into  attitudes  of  open-handed 
helpfulness.  In  all  such  experiences  the  central  fact 
is  the  imitation  of  action  and  therewith  of  the  states 
of  feeling.  Emotions  commonly  aroused  in  the  re- 
vivals are  those  of  fear,  pity,  and  love. 

The  means  of  arousing  fear  are  those  of  stimulating 
shrinking,  trembling,  cowering  reactions  over  against 
the  stubborn  resistance  of  the  "natural  man"  in  his 
attempts  to  be  brave  and  firm.  He  is  given  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  distress  of  a  lost  soul.  The  familiar 
figure  of  the  prodigal  son,  famished,  sleepless,  and 
weeping  in  his  gnawing  misery  as  he  sits  shivering 
and  foul  among  the  filthy  sw^ine  will  wrench  the  ner- 
vous system  and  excite  disturbing  motor  responses 
in  any  person  who  will  concentrate  his  mind  upon  it 
and  elaborate  the  excruciating  details  with  sustained 
imagination.  The  pictures  of  damned  souls  shut  out 
from  paradise,  wailing  and  gnashing  their  teeth,  is 
capable  of  endless  variation  in  terms  of  social  dis- 

331 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

grace,  ostracism,  and  punishment.  It  allows  number- 
less statements  from  the  standpoint  of  actual  social 
experience,  such  as  that  of  business  failure,  disease, 
and  loss  of  opportunity.  The  greater  the  lifelikeness 
and  sense  of  reality  in  the  description  of  the  torments 
of  the  wicked,  the  more  certainly  will  it  set  up  neural 
and  muscular  excitations  in  those  whose  consciences 
are  pricked,  and  therefore  the  greater  will  be  the  emo- 
tion of  fear  for  one's  personal  safety. 

The  emotion  of  pity  has  been  one  of  the  most  promi- 
nent feehngs  in  the  Christian  religion.  The  supreme 
instrument  for  producing  it  is  the  image  of  the  in- 
nocent Christ  upon  the  cross  set  round  with  all  his 
previous  experience  of  suffering,  torture,  betrayal,  de- 
sertion, and  mockery.  "All  these  events  copiously 
amplified  in  detail,  set  in  scene  by  the  most  realistic 
imagination  until  it  stood  out  with  an  almost  scari- 
fying and  sometimes  actually  stigmatic  effect  in  the 
psycho-physic  organism  of  the  believer,  appeal  as 
nothing  else  has  ever  done  to  the  sentiments  of  sym- 
pathy and  pity,  the  foundations  of  which  strike  to 
the  very  roots  of  man's  gregarious  nature."  ^  It  is 
only  necessary  to  image  a  single  detail,  such  as  that  of 
the  nails  being  driven  through  the  quivering  flesh  of 
the  palms,  to  realize  something  of  the  motor  reaction 
it  produces.  It  soon  creates  an  itching  in  the  palms,  a 
tendency  to  withdraw  the  hands  as  from  the  piercing 
points  of  the  nails,  and  a  general  sinking  and  sensation 
of  nausea.  Rightly  induced  such  activities  of  the 
organism  are  the  occasion  of  the  most  intense  pity, 

1  G.  Stanley  Hall,  "The  Jesus  of  History  and  of  the  Passion,"  The 
American  Journal  of  Religious  Psychology  and  Education,  vol.  i,  1904, 

332 


FEELING  AND  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

and  may  easily  lead  one  to  take  sides  with  the  suf- 
ferer. 

The  emotion  of  love  is  derived  in  a  similar  way.  It 
comes  by  attitudes  of  gratitude  and  tendencies  to 
sympathetic  helpfulness.  In  this  way  one  might  sur- 
vey the  entire  list  of  emotions  prominent  in  religion, 
and  show  that  they  are  all  dependent  upon  the  arousal 
of  complex,  variant  tendencies  to  instinctive  and 
imitative  conduct.  The  same  relation  between  action 
and  feeling  holds  true  in  the  more  refined  and  ideal 
types  of  religious  experience.  Feeling  is  never  com- 
municable or  transferable  by  a  direct  process.  It  is 
the  nature  of  affective  consciousness  to  be  individual 
and  subjective.  The  means  of  communication  is  that 
of  sense  perceptions  and  thought  symbols.  These 
operate  by  arousing  neural  and  motor  processes  hav- 
ing their  attendant  affective  qualities.  The  refinement 
and  cultivation  of  the  emotional  nature  must  there- 
fore necessarily  be  accomplished  indirectly  by  the 
control  of  the  attention  and  by  directing  it  to  the 
symbols  and  models  of  ideal  forms  of  conduct,  and 
by  securing  the  natural  expression  of  such  direction 
of  attention  into  its  appropriate  activities. 

The  advance  from  lower  to  higher  types  of  experi- 
ence may  be  measured  in  terms  of  the  fullness  and 
wealth  of  the  experience,  in  the  degree  to  which  it  is 
illuminated  and  controlled  by  intelligence,  and  in  the 
flexibility  and  adaptation  which  it  displays.  Religion, 
as  we  have  conceived  it,  is  the  deepest  phase  of  the 
social  consciousness.  The  higher  types  of  religion 
are  therefore  those  in  which  this  inmost  social  con- 
sciousness is  varied  and  comprehensive,  illuminated 

333 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  guided  by  intelligence,  and  subject  to  constant 
revision  with  the  changing  and  growing  life  of  man. 
In  religion  thus  conceived  there  is  that  constant  inter- 
play of  habit  and  attention,  of  the  old  and  the  new 
which  belongs  necessarily  and  inherently  to  vital 
processes.  Such  a  movement  is  precisely  that  in  which 
modern  society  finds  itself.  It  is  compelled  to  change 
its  social  methods  and  customs  as  it  changes  its  ma- 
chines, until  it  is  coming  to  be  characteristic  to  ex- 
pect changes  and  improvements  and  to  look  forward 
confidently  to  such  readjustments.  The  satisfying 
faith  and  trust  which  formerly  centred  in  the  static 
unchangeability  of  the  world  is  shifting  to  the  concep- 
tion of  the  law  of  movement  and  development.  The 
reverence  for  custom  gives  way  to  reliance  upon  in- 
telligence, operating  through  criticism  and  experi- 
mentation. Professor  Pratt  has  expressed  this  neces- 
sity of  constant  rational  reconstruction  in  religion  as 
follows :  "Among  every  people  that  thinks  religion  must 
always  be  at  a  crisis;  for  progress  is  the  life  of  thought 
and  crisis  is  essential  to  the  life  of  religion.  It  must 
forever  be  sloughing  off  an  old  shell  and  growing  a 
new  one.  It  must  be  broad  and  great  enough  to  accept 
all  that  science  and  criticism  have  to  say  and  brave 
enough  to  face  the  whole  truth  and  the  whole  future 
without  fear.  In  short,  the  very  life  of  religion  de- 
pends upon  its  being  able  to  distinguish  between  those 
things  which  for  its  age  are  essentials  and  those  which 
may  be  parted  with  as  non-essentials;  upon  its  being 
able  to  adapt  itself  to  the  ever  advancing  thought  of 
its  time.  In  thus  formulating  and  reformulating  the 
conceptions  of  religion  in  conformity  with  the  pro- 

334 


FEELING  AND  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

gress  of  human  knowledge  and  reflection,  reason  will 
ever  find  a  most  useful  sphere  in  the  service  of  re- 
ligion." 1 

In  the  light  of  these  general  principles,  it  is  possi- 
ble to  see  how  feeling,  like  ideation,  becomes  abnormal 
and  inconsequential  the  moment  it  loses  touch  with 
reality  and  action.  Just  as  ideas  have  been  mis- 
takenly believed  to  have  value  on  their  own  account 
and  have  therefore  been  manipulated  in  abstract 
formulae  to  discover  their  truth,  in  a  corresponding  way 
the  feelings  have  been  artificially  stimulated  by  un- 
real tensions  and  fictitious  relationships  to  produce 
sentiments  of  piety  and  the  conviction  of  contact 
with  the  unseen.  It  is  commonly  recognized  that 
music  and  other  arts  may  be  cultivated  in  parlor- 
soldier  fashion  so  that  they  result  in  emotional  dis- 
sipation. One  also  has  frequent  occasion  to  observe 
that  the  care  of  a  brute  pet  may  develop  anxieties 
and  tears  on  its  behalf  beyond  all  comparison  with 
those  bestowed  upon  suffering  human  beings.  From 
the  standpoint  of  social  values  and  ideals  such  mis- 
direction of  energy  and  affection  is  pathological  and 
despicable.  But  such  perversions  have  not  been  want- 
ing in  religion.  The  survivals  of  those  primitive  cults 
in  which  the  cow  or  the  monkey  is  reverenced  as  a 
sacred  being  afford  pathetic  illustration  of  the  way  in 
which  feeling  may  cling  to  conduct  which  in  a  civilized 
age  is  worse  than  absurd.  But  the  higher  religions 
often  suffer  from  perversions  within  particular  sects 
and  individuals.  Calvinistic  Christianitv,  for  ex- 
ample,   has  in  many  instances  resulted    in   morbid 

^  James  B.  Pratt,  The  Psychology  of  Religious  Belief,  pp.  287  f. 

335 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

brooding  over  the  question  as  to  whether  one  belongs 
to  the  number  of  the  elect,  whether  one  has  committed 
the  unpardonable  sin,  whether  one  has  scrupulously 
observed    some    ordinance,    performed    the    proper 
works,  and  experienced  the  necessary  degree  and  type 
of  faith.    The  corrective  for  such  perversions  of  feel- 
ing lies  in  an  objective  and  critical  estimate  of  the 
conduct  with  which  they  are  involved,  and  in  the 
substitution  for  such  conduct  of  other  activities  more 
serviceable  in  the  furtherance  of  human  social  inter- 
ests.  Feeling  depends  upon  action.   The  fundamental 
motive  to  action  is  fuller  living,  and  the  keenest  satis- 
factions belong  to  those  acts  which  minister  to  the 
highest  form  of  life  craved  by  the  normal  individual 
for  himself  and  others.   The  most  ideal  affections  and 
emotions  are  therefore  those  which  spring  from  ef- 
forts to  make  actual  and  secure  a  thoroughly  social- 
ized human  life  constantly  moving  forward  through 
the  free  and  harmonized  activity  of  the  individual 
members  of  the  society.    Here  is  involved  the  highest 
practical  task  and  the  ultimate  satisfaction  of  both  re- 
ligion and  morality.  It  is  just  this  task  and  its  accom- 
panying feeling  which  makes  morality  religious  and 
religion  moral.   Professor  Dewey,  writing  of  the  qual- 
ity of  happiness  which  is  morally  most  important, 
says:  "That  quality  which  is  most  important  is  the 
peace  and  joy  of  mind  that  accompanies  the  abiding 
and  equable  maintenance  of  socialized   interests   as 
central  springs  of  action.    To  one  in  whom  these  in- 
terests live  (and  they  live  to  some  extent  in  every 
individual  not  completely  pathological)   their  exer- 
cise brings  happiness  because  it  fulfills  his  life.    To 

336 


FEELING  AND   RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

those  in  whom  it  is  the  supreme  interest  it  brings  su- 
preme or  final  happiness.  It  is  not  preferred  because 
it  is  the  greater  happiness,  but  in  being  preferred  as 
expressing  the  only  kind  of  self  which  the  agent  fun- 
damentally wishes  himself  to  be,  it  constitutes  a  kind 
of  happiness  with  which  others  cannot  be  compared. 
It  is  unique,  final,  invaluable."  ^ 

1  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Ethics,  p.  SOL 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   PSYCHOLOGY   OF   RELIGIOUS   GENIUS   AND   IN- 
SPIRATION 

We  have  seen  that  for  primitive  thought  all  strange 
things  are  regarded  as  partaking  of  a  divine  or  demon- 
iacal life.  Exceptional  persons  are  viewed  in  the  same 
way.  They  possess  magical  properties  and  are  taboo. 
The  primitive,  undeveloped  mind  in  every  period  of 
history  to  the  present  time  has  been  disposed  to  con- 
sider all  peculiarities  and  exceptional  traits  as  signi- 
fying spirit  possession,  using  this  expression  in  a  free 
sense.  This  is  abundantly  illustrated  by  the  atti- 
tude of  the  masses  of  unscientific  people  toward 
dwarfs,  giants,  albinos,  cripples,  the  insane,  and  crimi- 
nals. There  is  felt  to  be  something  queer  and  uncanny 
about  them.  Similarly  a  very  old  person  or  a  very 
precocious  child  attracts  attention.  There  is  also  a 
sense  of  awe  in  the  presence  of  any  person  of  exalted 
rank  or  authority  or  of  notable  achievement.  The 
great  artists,  musicians,  orators,  and  poets  always  have 
been  popularly  regarded  as  receiving  special  gifts  or 
visitations  from  the  muses.  There  is  a  haunting  and 
insatiable  sense  of  something  in  them  over  and  above 
the  laws  of  common  experience.  The  unusual  indi- 
vidual has  "luck"  or  "divine  guidance"  of  a  super- 
natural and  unique  character.  Such  special  favors 
or  endowments  have  not  been  supposed  to  be  the 
sole  possession  of  religious  teachers  and  leaders.  Great 

338 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   GENIUS 

warriors,  hunters,  artisans,  athletes,  as  well  as  philo- 
sophers, lawgivers  and  poets,  priests  and  prophets  of 
all  races  have  been  thought  to  be  recipients  of  the 
favors  of  the  gods.  Even  among  the  Hebrew  people, 
where  the  phenomena  of  inspiration  are  commonly 
said  to  distinguish  a  special  class  of  men,  the  facts 
show  no  such  limitation.  All  of  the  great  men  of 
Israel,  whether  warriors,  lawgivers,  judges,  poets, 
prophets,  priests,  or  kings,  were  understood  to  be  in- 
spired in  the  sense  of  receiving  communications  and 
direction  from  Jehovah.  The  view  which  conceives 
inspiration  to  be  restricted  to  the  Hebrew  people  and 
to  a  special  group  of  men  within  that  nation  is  his- 
torically late,  and  is  not  in  keeping  with  the  feeling  of 
the  Hebrews  themselves  nor  with  that  of  any  other 
race.  All  great  men  of  all  races  are  popularly  believed 
to  be  inspired. 

The  term  genius  has  gradually  come  into  quite 
common  use  to  denote  remarkable  ability  and  achieve- 
ment. It  has  greater  comprehensiveness  than  the 
word  inspiration.  We  speak  of  a  scientific,  political, 
literary,  or  musical  genius,  and  also  of  a  great  reli- 
gious leader  or  teacher  as  a  religious  genius.  This 
word  has  some  advantage  for  scientific  purposes  in 
that  it  is  freer  from  superstition  and  from  the  confu- 
sions of  controversy.  But  it  has  not  always  been  used 
with  scientific  care  and  precision.  It  has  often  desig- 
nated an  assumed  irreducible  and  unanalyzable  factor 
in  human  nature,  a  kind  of  given  endowment  which 
the  science  of  psychology  cannot  legitmately  adopt. 
It  is  a  part  of  the  scientific  attitude  to  insist  upon 
the  application  of  analysis  and  interpretation  to  all 

339 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

factors  and  functions  of  the  mental  life.  It  is  too 
much  to  expect  that  scientific  explanations  will  not 
be  undertaken  simply  because  the  phenomena  in- 
volved are  complex  and  obscure,  or  because  some 
persons  insist  that  they  are  wholly  inscrutable.  The 
results  of  the  investigation  may  be  negative  or 
meagre  and  only  partially  sustained,  but  no  phe- 
nomena of  human  experience  can  lay  claim  to  im- 
munity from  at  least  the  attempt  to  understand  them. 
Therefore  any  statement  of  genius  w^hich  assumes  it 
to  involve  factors  radically  different  from  those  of 
ordinary  experience  is  vitiated  at  the  outset  by  that 
assumption. 

The  legitimacy  and  practicability  of  subjecting  the 
mind  of  genius  to  the  same  methods  and  standards 
that  are  applied  to  ordinary  men  are  supported  by 
the  discovery  that  great  men  are  not  so  isolated  from 
their  fellows  as  has  been  supposed.  The  more  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  history  does  not  make  it  appear 
as  the  work  of  a  comparatively  few  great  men  of  ex- 
traordinary endowments.  It  is  becoming  clear  that 
the  ideas  and  inventions  by  which  progress  comes  are 
the  culmination  of  the  work  of  many  men  of  different 
grades  of  talent.  "The  popular  mind  spares  itself 
effort  by  crediting  the  house  to  the  man  who  lays  the 
last  tile  and  allowing  his  co-workers  to  drop  out  of 
view.  History,  however,  far  from  gratifying  these 
hero-worshiping  propensities,  shows  that  nearly  every 
truth  or  mechanism  is  the  fusion  of  a  large  number  of 
original  ideas  proceeding  from  numerous  collaborators, 
most  of  whom  have  been  forgotten."  ^ 

*  E.  A.  Ross,  Foundations  of  Sociology,  p.  227. 

340 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   GENIUS 

Francis  Galton's  account  of  genius  seems  to  make 
it  a  matter  of  race.  Various  races  produce  a  number 
of  extraordinarily  great  men,  and  that  number  is  the 
measure  of  the  quality  of  the  race.  These  individ- 
uals, through  the  inherited  combination  of  the  tem- 
peraments and  capacities  of  many  ancestors,  attain 
greatness  and  distinction  quite  independent  of  the 
historical,  social  situation.  The  social  conditions  may 
be  disturbing  factors,  facilitating  or  augmenting  the 
career  of  the  genius,  but  natural  capacity  is  the  impor- 
tant thing.  Those  who  possess  great  abilities  almost 
always  rise  to  eminence  over  all  obstacles. 

Professor  Cooley  effectively  criticises  this  theory, 
particularly  with  respect  to  the  unimportant  place 
it  assigns  to  education  and  to  social  environment.^ 
He  accepts  Galton's  main  thesis  that  genius  may  be 
transmitted  by  heredity,  but  holds  that  absence  of  ed- 
ucation and  social  advantages  may  act  as  a  bar  against 
genius  attaining  recognition.  This  manner  of  distin- 
guishing sharply  between  the  natural  endowment 
and  the  environment  introduces  an  unfortunate  dual- 
ism which  Cooley  does  not  altogether  overcome.  He 
appears  to  accept  the  distinction  and  to  differ  from 
Galton  chiefly  in  making  favorable  environment  es- 
sential to  the  development  of  nature's  gifts.  Still  he 
approaches  a  more  organic  conception  of  the  relation 
of  genius  and  circumstances  when  he  admits  that 
we  cannot  know  what  greatness  is  in  a  man  unless  it 
comes  out.  "If  genius  does  not  become  fame  we  can- 
not be  sure  it  was  genius." 

^  C.  H.  Cooley,  "Genius,  Fame  and  the  Comparison  of  Races," 
Annals  of  the  American  Academy,  vol.  ix,  1897,  pp.  317  flf. 

341 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

In  his  contention  that  genius  cannot  develop  with- 
out support  from  a  favoring  environment,  Professor 
Cooley  really  accomplishes  more  than  he  claims  to 
do,  for  not  only  is  he  justified  in  concluding  that  edu- 
cation and  opportunity  and  an  atmosphere  are  neces- 
sary to  enable  the  genius  to  attain  recognition,  but 
he  might  well  insist  that  such  circumstances  are  essen- 
tial factors  in  the  creation  and  growth  of  the  powers, 
capacity,  and  skill  of  great  men.  He  shows  with  con- 
vincing evidence  that  lack  of  early  education  is  an 
effectual  bar  to  literary  genius.  There  is  proof  that 
Burns  and  Bunyan  were  sent  to  school  when  children. 
They  escaped  the  illiteracy  which  characterized  their 
class  and  the  great  mass  of  the  population  of  Europe 
and  Great  Britain  down  to  the  nineteenth  century. 
Other  hindrances  to  the  development  of  genius  are 
unfavorable  economic  and  social  conditions  which 
result  in  physical  defects  and  arrested  development. 
Among  these  influences  are  the  underfeeding  of  chil- 
dren and  child  labor.  The  great  majority  of  the  famous 
European  men  of  letters  came  from  the  upper  classes 
of  society,  in  which  there  is  no  distressing  want.  "It 
would  seem,  then, "  writes  Cooley,  "that  if  we  divide 
mankind  into  these  three  classes  (upper,  lower-middle, 
and  peasantry) ,  the  number  of  famous  men  produced 
by  each  class  is  in  something  like  inverse  proportion 
to  the  total  number  in  the  class."  He  concludes  that 
the  few  individuals  among  the  peasantry  and  pro- 
letariat having  had  the  aid  of  education  who  have 
achieved  fame  make  it  reasonable  to  infer  that  if 
instruction  and  opportunity  had  been  general  the 
number  of  geniuses  would  have  been  correspondingly 

342 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   GENIUS 

increased.  The  fact  that  democracy  seems  to  favor 
the  development  of  genius  points  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. 

But  perhaps  the  most  telHng  feature  in  Cooley's 
article,  for  the  present  discussion,  is  the  disclosure 
of  the  fallacy  of  Galton's  view  that  the  production 
of  geniuses  is  a  matter  of  race  rather  than  of  history 
and  social  environment;  that  there  is  something  final 
as  to  the  quahty  of  a  given  race  which  is  indicated  by 
the  number  of  its  great  men  almost  without  refer- 
ence to  economic  or  cultural  influences.  A  very  strik- 
ing argument  is  based  on  the  distribution  of  famous 
painters  in  Italy.    "Previous  to  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury Italy  produced  no  great  painters.    In  the  thir- 
teenth century  seven   were  born;  in  the  fourteenth, 
seven;  in  the  fifteenth  thirty-eight;  in  the  sixteenth, 
twenty-three;  of  whom  fourteen  fall  in  the  first  half. 
In  the  seventeenth,  eighteenth,  and  nineteenth  centu- 
ries a  few  scattered  painters,  none  of  them  of  very  high 
merit."   This  appearance  of  genius  in  certain  periods 
and  its  absence  at  others  is  held  to  be  capable  of  ex- 
planation at  least  in  broad  outlines.   First,  it  involves 
the  development  of  a  technique  through  the  personal 
contact  and  training  of  masters  from  childhood.  Prob- 
ably this  technique  of  art  needs  also  to  rest  upon 
handicraft.    "The  great  painters  and  sculptors  were 
first  of  all  craftsmen."    They  were  apprenticed  very 
early,  and  thus  had  the  full  force  of  the  best  tradi- 
tion and  opportunity  for  imitation  and  refinement  of 
technique.     A  second  condition    is    that  of  "atmo- 
sphere," a  social  environment  in  which  appreciation, 
sympathy,  and  friendly  criticism  play  about  the  indi- 

343 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

vidual  in  his  most  sensitive  and  formative  years.  A 
third  factor  is  that  of  "an  aspiring  and  successful 
general  life,  furnishing  symbols"  for  a  common  en- 
thusiasm. This  general  life  and  its  symbols  may  be 
religious  or  political,  or  conceivably  it  may  be  indus- 
trial or  scientific.  In  the  Italy  of  the  mediaeval  period 
it  was  predominantly  religious. 

If  these  principles  are  freed  and  given  application 
to  genius  in  various  lines,  it  becomes  clear  that  they 
express  the  social  and  functional  conception  of  the 
development  of  consciousness.  The  underlying  con- 
dition is  the  one  mentioned  last,  that  of  a  vital,  urgent 
life  for  the  whole  social  group.  Great  men  have  arisen 
in  crises  when  the  nation  or  race  felt  the  stress  of  un- 
usual tension  and  opportunity.  At  such  times  the 
currents  of  thought  and  feeling  are  deepened  and  quick- 
ened. Not  only  are  unusual  men  demanded  by  the  sit- 
uation, but  they  are  created  by  it,  through  the  stress 
and  stimulation  and  experience  which  it  furnishes. 
Such  epochs  in  the  history  of  nations  and  of  social 
classes  develop  more  or  less  gradually  and  are  realized 
with  increasing  might  and  power  by  multitudes  of 
men.  Thus  an  atmosphere  and  a  technique  are  gen- 
erated. The  direction  of  attention  is  fixed.  Facility 
and  mastery  are  attained.  Models,  types,  patterns, 
and  records  are  produced  and  the  individuals  of  re- 
markable capacity  and  skill  are  given  full  opportunity 
as  well  as  the  high  pressure  of  a  most  educative  and 
disciplining  social  consciousness. 

How  widely  applicable  these  principles  are  is  sug- 
gested by  Galton's  inclusion  of  distinguished  English 
oarsmen  among  his  men  of  genius,  and  by  Cooley's 

344 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   GENIUS 

reference  to  the  American  game  of  baseball.  "It  is 
as  difficult,"  says  the  latter,  "for  an  American  brought 
up  in  the  western  part  of  our  country  to  become  a 
good  painter  as  it  is  for  a  Parisian  to  become  a  good 
baseball  player,  and  for  similar  reasons.  Baseball  is  a 
social  institution  with  us;  every  vacant  lot  is  a  school, 
every  boy  an  aspirant  for  success.  The  technique 
of  the  game  is  acquired  in  childhood,  and  every  ap- 
pearance of  talent  meets  with  enthusiastic  apprecia- 
tion. Hence  we  have  many  good  players  and  a  few 
great  ones.  Now  it  is  probable  that  Frenchmen  are 
from  time  to  time  born  with  a  genius  for  this  game, 
but  how  can  it  be  developed.^  AYhat  chance  do  they 
have  to  achieve  excellence  or  acquire  fame?" 

The  appearance  of  scientific  geniuses  suggests  a 
still  clearer  operation  of  cultural  influences  indepen- 
dently of  race  and  of  local  centres.  Scientific  men  in  all 
countries,  by  the  aid  of  books  and  easy  inter-com- 
munication, have  established  a  group  relationship 
and  consciousness  quite  superior  to  geographical  and 
racial  limitations.  The  rapidly  developing  scientific 
spirit  in  all  civilized  countries  furnishes  cumulative 
evidence  that  great  men  are  products  of  something 
more  than  original  native  endowment  or  racial  in- 
heritance. They  come  with  the  confluence  of  great 
economic  and  social  interests  which  give  a  set  to  at- 
tention and  furnish  intense  stimulation  and  a  w^ealth 
of  suggestion.  This  is  illustrated  in  the  work  of  in- 
ventors, whose  devices  often  spring  from  a  sense  of 
urgent  need  guided  by  a  sensitive  and  disciplined 
knowledge  of  other  kindred  achievements.  "An  ef- 
fective   invention,"    Baldwin    remarks,    "is    always 

345 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

rooted  in  the  knowledge  already  possessed  by  society. 
No  effective  invention  ever  makes  an  absolute  break 
with  the  culture,  tradition,  fund  of  knowledge  trea- 
sured up  from  the  past."  ^ 

The  relation  of  the  individual  and  the  social  group 
is  liable  to  overstatement  on  either  side.  In  the  older 
view  the  great  individual  was  regarded  as  coming  in 
some  quite  marvelous  way,  bringing  a  nature  and  an 
equipment  so  much  superior  to  his  contemporaries 
that  he  needed  little  if  any  aid  from  them.  At  the  other 
extreme  is  the  theory  that  the  race  or  society  is  every- 
thing and  that  the  individual  is  shaped  and  played 
upon  by  the  mass  mechanically  and  externally.  There 
is,  however,  another  conception.  It  is  that  which 
finds  the  springs  and  the  channels  of  social  life  in  the 
impulses  and  habits  of  the  individual  and  at  the  same 
time  recognizes  that  these  are  expressed,  stimulated, 
inhibited,  and  operated  through  a  living  social  organ- 
ism. The  great  individuals,  the  geniuses,  are  those 
who  possess  fully  the  social  consciousness  and  at  the 
same  time  contribute  to  its  development.  They  fur- 
nish additional  impulse  and  momentum  to  ideals 
w^hich  have  been  dimly  felt  or  feebly  supported. 
They  act  as  reagents  to  precipitate  ideas  and  policies 
already  in  solution  in  the  popular  mind.  Such  persons 
represent,  as  Baldwin  puts  it,  "a  variation  toward 
suggestibility  of  the  most  delicate  and  singular  kind. 
They  surpass  the  teachers  from  whom  they  learn.'* 
"Now,"  he  continues,  "let  a  man  combine  with  this 
insight  —  this  extraordinary  sanity  of  social  judg- 
ment —  the  power  of  great  inventive  and  constructive 

*  J.  M.  Baldwin,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations,  p.  180. 

346 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  GENIUS 

thought,  and  then,  at  last,  we  have  our  genius,  our 
hero,  and  one  that  we  well  may  worship."  ^ 

Such  an  account  of  genius  affords  an  illuminating 
interpretation  of  the  great  prophetic  leaders  in  He- 
brew history.  They  appeared  at  times  of  great  na- 
tional tension  and  of  the  most  acute  material  and 
political  struggles  for  existence.  The  great  writing 
prophets  accumulated  a  literature  which  furnished 
models,  a  technique  and  an  atmosphere.  These  pro- 
phets were  in  close  and  sympathetic  relation  with  the 
currents  of  the  social  and  political  life.  They  were  in 
touch  with  the  masses  of  the  people  and  they  were 
familiar  with  affairs  at  court.  They  knew  the  situation 
in  their  own  nation  and  were  informed  concerning 
the  attitudes  and  conflicts  of  the  great  empires  around 
them.  These  facts  are  better  recognized  with  refer- 
ence to  the  later  writing  prophets,  Isaiah,  Jeremiah, 
and  Deutero-Isaiah,  and  therefore  it  may  be  more 
serviceable  to  make  a  fuller  statement  concerning  the 
earlier  prophet  Amos. 

The  time  at  which  Amos  appeared  was  one  in  which 
the  vices  and  corruptions  of  the  despotism  intro- 
duced by  Solomon  had  become  most  flagrant,  the 
ancient  laws  and  customs  had  been  set  aside,  the  free- 
dom of  the  people  had  been  crushed  by  forced  labor, 
and  there  had  been  wars,  famines,  and  plagues. ^  The 
court  was  luxurious  and  licentious,  while  the  masses 
were  hopelessly  impoverished.  The  class  distinctions 
between  the  aristocracy  and  the  people,  between  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  were  aggravated  by  rampant  op- 

1  J.  !M.  Baldwin,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations,  p.  173. 
*  William  Robertson  Smith,  The  Prophets  of  Israel,  Lecture  TIL 

347 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

pression  and  fraud.  The  officials  of  religion  shared 
in  the  degeneracy  of  the  court  and  of  the  rich.  The 
sanctuaries  were  degraded  by  idolatry  and  by  licen- 
tiousness aided  by  the  mercenary  priesthood,  which 
encouraged  lavish  gifts  and  offerings  for  their  own 
selfish  ends.  The  priests  also  acted  as  judges  and  ap- 
propriated the  fines  and  the  spoils  of  neglected  jus- 
tice for  their  own  indulgence.  "The  strangest  scenes 
of  lawlessness  were  seen  in  the  sanctuaries  —  revels 
where  the  fines  paid  to  the  priestly  judges  were  spent 
in  wine-drinking,  ministers  of  the  altars  stretched  for 
these  carousals  on  garments  taken  in  pledge  in  de- 
fiance of  sacred  law."  The  professional  prophets  also 
had  sunk  to  the  level  of  the  priests,  prostituting  their 
sacred  function  for  the  sake  of  gain.  Amos  saw  that 
the  priests  and  prophets  were  allied  with  the  court 
and  with  the  corrupt  aristocracy.  Over  against  these 
he  appealed  to  those  of  the  nation  yet  sensitive  to  the 
old  ideals  of  religion  and  to  the  rights  and  needs  of  the 
masses.  He  became  the  exponent  of  the  deeper  con- 
science and  the  outraged  social  justice  of  the  "rem- 
nant." He  voiced  the  impending  judgment  which 
Jehovah  would  visit  upon  Israel  for  its  sins.  "  Behold 
I  set  the  plumb-line  —  the  rule  of  divine  righteous- 
ness —  in  the  midst  of  Israel ;  I  will  not  pass  them  by 
any  more;  and  the  high  places  of  Isaac  shall  be  deso- 
late, and  the  sanctuaries  of  Israel  shall  be  laid  waste, 
and  I  will  rise  against  the  house  of  Jeroboam  with  the 
sword." 

Amos  appealed  to  the  traditions  and  ideals  current 
among  the  people  of  Northern  Israel  in  the  stories  of 
the  patriarchs,  of  Moses,  of  the  Judges,  of  Saul,  and  of 

348 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   GENIUS 

David.  At  every  sanctuary  was  heard  the  recital  of 
Jehovah's  great  and  loving  deeds  which  had  conse- 
crated these  holy  places  from  the  days  of  the  pa- 
triarchs down.  Deep  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
people  to  whom  Amos  spoke  was  the  sense  of  Je- 
hovah's holiness  and  jealous  care,  of  the  sanctity  of 
the  priestly  office,  and  of  the  dangers  of  departing 
from  the  ways  of  righteousness  and  justice.  These 
were  familiar  in  the  popular  traditions  and  in  written 
documents. 

There  is  also  evidence  that  Amos  w^as  not  without 
the  education  and  culture  which  his  time  afforded. 
William  Robertson  Smith  says:  "The  humble  condi- 
tion of  a  shepherd  following  his  flock  on  the  bare 
mountains  of  Tekoa  has  tempted  many  commenta- 
tors, from  Jerome  downwards,  to  think  of  Amos  as  an 
unlettered  clown,  and  to  trace  his  'rusticity'  in  the 
language  of  his  book.  To  the  unprejudiced  judgment, 
however,  the  prophecy  of  Amos  appears  one  of  the 
best  examples  of  pure  Hebrew  style.  The  language, 
the  images,  the  grouping  are  alike  admirable;  and  the 
simplicity  of  the  diction,  obscured  only  in  one  or  two 
passages  by  the  fault  of  transcribers,  is  a  token,  not 
of  rusticity,  but  of  perfect  mastery  over  a  language 
which,  though  unfit  for  the  expression  of  abstract 
ideas,  is  unsurpassed  as  a  vehicle  for  impassioned 
speech.  To  associate  inferior  culture  with  the  sim- 
plicity and  poverty  of  pastoral  life  is  totally  to  mis- 
take the  conditions  of  Eastern  society.  xA.t  the  courts 
of  the  Caliphs  and  their  Emirs  the  rude  Arabs  of  the 
desert  were  wont  to  appear  without  any  feeling  of 
awkwardness,  and  to  surprise  the  courtiers  by  the 

349 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

finish  of  their  impromptu  verses,  the  fluent  eloquence 
of  their  oratory,  and  the  range  of  subjects  on  which 
they  could  speak  with  knowledge  and  discrimina- 
tion." The  same  author  also  notes  the  prophet's 
width  of  human  interest  based  on  a  remarkable  range 
of  observation,  and  insists  that  it  is  illegitimate  to 
ascribe  this  knowledge  to  special  revelation.  It  can 
be  accounted  for  on  the  ground  that  Amos  was  an  ob- 
server of  social  and  political  life  in  his  own  and  other 
countries.  "Long  journeys  are  easy  to  one  bred  in  the 
frugality  of  the  wilderness,  and  either  on  military 
duty,  such  as  all  Hebrews  were  liable  to,  or  in  the 
service  of  trading  caravans,  the  shepherd  of  Tekoa 
might  naturally  have  found  occasion  to  wander  far 
from  his  home."  It  is  still  more  obvious  in  the  case  of 
the  successors  of  Amos  that  their  prophetic  genius 
was  developed  by  the  aid  of  stirring  public  events, 
personal  experience,  great  teachers,  and  many  other 
influences  which  stimulated  and  aroused  their  sensi- 
tive natures. 

There  is  one  other  characteristic  which  is  constantly 
in  evidence  in  the  experience  of  the  prophets.  They 
refer  to  their  message  as  coming  to  them  from  a  source 
quite  outside  themselves.  They  appear  to  be  the  pas- 
sive recipients  of  the  words  they  utter,  and  this  phe- 
nomenon is  frequently  cited  as  conclusive  evidence 
that  they  receive  supernatural  inspiration  or  revelation. 
The  formula  is,  "The  word  of  the  Lord  came  unto 
me";  or  "Thus  saith  the  Lord."  There  is  the  sense  of 
a  direct  communication,  sometimes  with  an  accom- 
panying vision  of  the  speaker  in  the  form  of  an  angel 
or  messenger.    At  other  times  the  scenes  described 

350 


PSYCHOLOGY   OF  RELIGIOUS    GENIUS 

appear  in  a  kind  of  dream  panorama  with  a  vividness 
and  detail  which  the  prophet  interprets  as  meaning 
that  they  are  sent  from  God. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  show  that  this  type  of  experience 
was  not  peculiar  to  the  Hebrew  prophets  and  that  it 
had  no  significance  in  discriminating  between  true 
and  false  prophets,  or  between  the  great  and  the  or- 
dinary prophets.    We  have  seen  that  it  was  universal 
among  primitive  religions  for  individuals  to  experi- 
ence the  phenomena  of  possession.    All  automatisms, 
trances,  dreams,  ecstasies,  deliriums,  and  the  like  were 
attributed  to  possession  by  spirits.   The  Hebrew  was 
no  exception.    "Peculiar  mental  and  physical  condi- 
tions which  were  inexplicable  to  him  easily  passed  for 
the  states  in  which  the  god  was  giving  his  special 
communications."!      It  was  the  custom   among  the 
prophets  of  the  more  primitive  type  to  employ  certain 
exercises,  such   as  processions   and  dancing,  accom- 
panied by  the  music  of  drums  and  pipes,  to  induce 
states  of  trance  and  frenzy.  ^    By  such  means   Saul 
and  Elisha  were  said  to  have  been  enabled  to  pro- 
phesy.   When  Elisha  desired  a  message  he  commanded 
a  minstrel   to   be   brought.    *'And  it  came  to  pass, 
when  the  minstrel  played,  that  the  hand  of  the  Lord 
came  upon  him."^    This   conviction  of  the  prophet 
that  God  spoke  to  him,  or  in  some  direct  manner  con- 
veyed a  revelation,  has  never  been  of  itself  the  sole  or 
chief  guarantee  of  the  value  of  the  prophecy.    The 
distinction  between  true  and  false  prophets  or  between 

1  Irving  Wood,  The  Spirit  of  God  in  Biblical  Literature,  p.  28. 
^  "William  Robertson  Smith,  The  Prophets  of  Israel,  p.  391. 
*  2  Kings,  iii,  15. 

351 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

important  and  insignificant  prophets  was  never  deter- 
mined alone  by  the  psychological  processes  which  they 
experienced.  The  value  of  the  prophet's  word  has 
been  measured  rather  by  its  ethical  significance,  by 
its  appeal  to  the  historic  social  judgment  and  con- 
science. In  the  greatest  of  the  prophets,  the  cruder 
phenomena  of  frenzy  and  ecstasy  disappear.  They 
speak  in  a  quite  natural  manner,  and  scarcely  claim 
for  themselves  any  greater  sense  of  passivity  and  sub- 
ordination to  external  influence  than  do  many  modern 

writers. 

Modern  psychology  has  classified,  described,  and  to 
some  extent  explained  the  various  phenomena  ex- 
hibited in  cases  of  inspiration.  It  finds  that  such  phe- 
nomena appear  in  every  age  down  to  the  present. 
The  cruder,  more  primitive  type  is  represented  by  our 
whirling  dervishes,  medicine  men,  trance  mediums. 
There  are  also  those  who  claim  direct  communication 
from  a  supernatural  source  by  an  inner  mysterious 
illumination  of  the  mind.  This  has  been  charac- 
teristic of  various  sects  of  pietists  and  theosophists. 
There  is  a  third  class  of  leaders  and  writers  who  regard 
their  activity  in  quite  a  natural  way,  but  who  recognize 
in  their  experiences  a  certain  passive  attitude  and  a 
seeming  external  control.  This  has  been  frequently 
reflected  upon  and  described  by  authors  of  other  than 
religious  literature.  One  student  of  the  subject  of  ge- 
nius has  collected  statements  from  various  eminent 
authors  concerning  this  phase  of  their  work.^  Goethe 
spoke  of  writing  "  Werther  "  "  somewhat  unconsciously 
like  a  sleepwalker."    He  says  in  another  connection: 

^  William  Hirsch,  Genius  and  Degeneration,  pp.  32  ff. 

352 


PSYCHOLOGY   OF  RELIGIOUS   GENIUS 

"It  had  happened  to  me  so  often  that  I  would  repeat  a 
song  to  myself  and  then  be  unable  to  recollect  it,  that 
sometimes  I  would  run  to  my  desk  and,  without  tak- 
ing time  to  lay  my  paper  straight,  would  without 
stirring  from  my  place  write  out  the  poem  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  slopingly.  For  the  same  reason  I  al- 
ways preferred  to  write  with  a  pencil,  on  account  of  its 
marking  so  readily.  On  several  occasions,  indeed,  the 
scratching  and  spluttering  of  my  pen  awoke  me  from 
my  somnambulistic  poetizing  and  distracted  me  so 
that  it  suffocated  a  little  product  in  the  birth."  La- 
martine  said,  "It  is  not  I  who  think,  but  my  ideas 
which  think  for  me."  Bettinelli  said,  "The  happy 
moment  for  the  poet  may  be  called  a  dream  — 
dreamed  in  the  presence  of  the  intellect,  which  stands 
by  and  gazes  with  open  eyes  at  the  performance." 
Valuable  suggestions  have  often  come  to  the  subject 
in  dreams  during  sleep.  Klopstock  gives  that  ac- 
count of  many  of  the  ideas  for  his  Messiah.  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson,  writing  of  depending  upon  the 
Brownies  of  both  his  sleeping  and  his  waking  dreams, 
says:  "I  am  an  excellent  adviser,  something  like 
Moliere's  servant;  I  pull  back  and  I  cut  down;  and  I 
dress  the  whole  in  the  best  words  and  sentences  that 
I  can  find  and  make;  I  hold  the  pen,  too;  and  I  do 
the  sitting  at  the  table,  which  is  about  the  worst  of 
it;  and  when  all  is  done,  I  make  up  the  manuscript 
and  pay  for  the  registration;  so  that,  on  the  whole,  I 
have  some  claim  to  share,  though  not  so  largely  as  I 
do,  in  the  profits  of  our  common  enterprise." 

The  common  factor  in  all  these  cases,  including 
those  of  the  prophetic  experience,  is  the  consciousness 

353 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  being  the  more  or  less  passive  instrument  or  agent 
of  forces  outside  one's  conscious  self.   This  conscious- 
ness cannot  be  any  proof  that  one  is  really  subject  to 
influences  of  a  supernatural  kind,  for  such  conscious- 
ness is  often  induced  by  known  causes  arbitrarily,  as 
in  hypnotism  and  in  various  forms  of  suggestion.    It 
is  also  a  familiar  feature  of  habitual  activity,  and  we 
have  already  noted  that  this  feeling  of  externality  and 
urgency  is  no  guarantee  of  the  superior  quality  or 
wisdom  of  the  message  which  it  accompanies,  since  it 
is  often  found  in  connection  with  most  trivial  and 
absurd  deliverances.    It  may  therefore  be  regarded 
as  an  incidental   and  negligible  phenomenon.    The 
truth  and  value  of  any  message  must  rest  upon  more 
objective  and  verifiable  grounds.    It  must  justify  it- 
self to  other  minds  by  its  intrinsic  merit  and  by  its 
serviceability  for  consistent  action.    The  inevitable 
conclusion  is  that  the  distinguishing  marks  of  great 
religious  teachers  and  leaders,  so  far  as  psychology 
can  determine,  are  no  different  from  those  of  other 
geniuses.  Like  these  other  geniuses  they  are  evidently 
men  of  extraordinary  mental  capacity  who  appropri- 
ate the  materials  at  hand  with  facility,  interpret  them 
with  illuminating  insight,  and  employ  them  as  guides 
to  higher  standards  of  appreciation  and  to  new  lines 
of  conduct.    The  genius,  whatever  the  sphere  of  his 
activity,  is  an  individual  of  remarkable  native  ability 
profoundly  saturated  with  the  social  consciousness, 
and  operating  effectively  to  bring  that  consciousness 
to  greater  clearness  and  efficiency. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NONRELIGIOUS    PERSONS 

There  is  ordinarily  little  question  as  to  what  is 
meant  by  nonscientific,  nonmusical,  or  nonsocial  per- 
sons. And  there  is  no  doubt  that  many  individuals 
belong  to  each  of  these  classes.  There  are  also  num- 
bers of  people  who  are  nonreligious  as  judged  by  con- 
ventional standards.  They  belong  to  no  ecclesiastical 
organization,  they  profess  no  creed,  and  disavow  hav- 
ing had  any  personal  "experience"  of  religion.  The 
practical  religious  worker  usually  does  not  hesitate  to 
designate  them  as  nonreligious  or  as  positively  irre- 
ligious. The  modern  theologians  and  psychologists, 
however,  have  been  slower  to  commit  themselves  to 
that  position.  The  theologians  of  the  newer  school 
often  assert  that  man  is  by  nature  religious,  "incur- 
ably religious,"  in  Sabatier's  much  quoted  phrase. 
They  sometimes  mean  that  the  race  has  been  endowed 
with  a  "sense  of  the  infinite,"  with  a  religious  faculty 
or  instinct,  which  craves  expression  and  makes  one 
restless  until  it  is  given  satisfaction.  This  religious 
endowment  or  experience  is  frequently  regarded  as 
something  distinct  from  the  moral  nature  or  ethical 
character  and  as  the  fundamental  condition  of  moral- 
ity. With  the  psychologists  there  is  more  of  a  ten- 
dency to  the  view  that  man  possesses  no  special 
instinct  or  endowment  which  makes  him  religious,  but 
that  he  is  capable  of  developing  the  attitudes  and 

355 


/ 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

habits  which  are  religious.  Such  varying  conceptions 
require  a  more  careful  analysis  of  the  phenomena  and 
more  definite  use  of  terms. 

In  primitive  groups  there  could  be  no  nonreligious 
persons.  The  customs  were  imperative  and  inexorable. 
Any  one  who  would  not  conform  was  punished  or 
expelled  from  the  group  and  not  infrequently  was  put 
to  death.  Even  in  the  high  civilizations  of  Greece  and 
Rome  whoever  did  not  observe  the  prevailing  rites 
was  considered  impious  and  dangerous.  It  has  re- 
quired a  long  and  troubled  history  to  develop  any 
degree  of  tolerance  for  the  dissenter  and  the  noncon- 
formist, for  the  free-thinker  and  the  heretic.  But  with 
the  individualism  of  the  modern  world  there  has  come  a 
loosening  of  the  old  group  morality  and  religion  until 
there  are  many  persons  in  every  civilized  community 
who  are  not  religious  in  the  conventional  sense  of  the 
term.  Are  such  persons  actually  nonreligious;  and,  if 
so,  what  are  the  psychological  characteristics  which 
thev  manifest.'^ 

Taking  religion  as  we  have  defined  it,  the  answer 
is  not  difficult.  If  religion  is  viewed  as  participation  in 
the  ideal  values  of  the  social  consciousness,  then  those 
who  do  not  share  in  this  social  consciousness  are 
non -religious.  The  psychological  criterion  of  a  man's 
religion  is  the  degree  and  range  of  his  social  conscious- 
ness. 

It  is  of  course  often  true  that  this  participation  is 
not  direct.  It  is  not  always  conscious  of  itself.  It  may 
nevertheless  be  real  and  powerful.  The  great  majority 
of  persons  doubtless  develop  their  social  conscience, 
their  patriotism,  sense  of  justice,  and  vision  of  the  fu- 

356 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

ture  of  society  under  the  influence  of  custom  and  insti- 
tutional authority.  They  could  not  explain  why  they 
are  so  deeply  moved  by  the  symbols  of  the  aspiring 
national  life.  The  flag,  a  popular  song,  or  the  name  of 
one  of  their  heroes  stirs  them  to  enthusiasm  and  self- 
sacrifice.  The  symbol  has  become  identical  with  the 
reality,  and  the  popular  mind  has  little  disposition  to 
distinguish  the  hero  from  the  cause  he  represents,  or 
to  analyze  just  how  he  is  identified  with  it.  The  depth 
and  urgency  of  a  great  national  ideal  are  undoubtedly 
vaster  than  the  achievement  or  intention  of  the  per- 
sons who  advocate  and  enact  it,  but  for  the  mass  of 
men  the  leaders  are  the  embodiment  of  it.  Professor 
Cooley  has  stated  this  with  suggestive  insight.  He 
says,  "To  think  of  love,  gratitude,  pity,  grief,  honor, 
courage,  justice,  and  the  like,  it  is  necessary  to  think 
of  people  by  whom  or  toward  whom  these  sentiments 
may  be  entertained.  Thus  justice  may  be  recalled  by 
thinking  of  Washington,  kindness  by  Lincoln,  honor 
by  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  so  on.  The  reason  for  this,  as 
already  intimated,  is  that  sentiment  and  imagination 
are  generated,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  life  of  com- 
munication, and  so  belong  with  personal  images  by 
original  and  necessary  association,  having  no  separate 
existence  except  in  our  forms  of  speech. "^ 

It  is  natural  and  quite  indispensable  that  social 
ideals  should  be  felt  in  this  way.  If  one  approves  a 
leader  who  is  vitally  representative  of  his  group,  one 
thereby  shares  in  the  inmost  life  of  that  group,  though 
he  may  appear  to  himself  to  be  devoted  directly  and 
solely  to  the  individual  leader  alone.    He  who  prides 

^  Cooley,  Human  Nature  and  the  Social  Order,  p.  83. 

3o7 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

himself  on  following  his  own  conscience  or  obeying  a 
certain  law  of  external  authority  may  also  in  reality  be 
accepting  the  standards  of  his  immediate  social  en- 
vironment or  those  remote  in  time  and  space  which 
yet  are  vivid  in  his  imagination.  One's  conscience  or 
one's  external  authority  is  necessarily  the  living  em- 
bodiment of  some  social  system.  The  symbols  which 
appeal  to  a  man  so  powerfully  may  seem  to  him  en- 
tirely beyond  and  above  any  human  social  origin.  He 
perhaps  resents  the  scientific  conclusion  that  they  are 
really  products  of  the  historical,  social  life  of  the  race. 
He  may  conceive  that  his  religious  consciousness  is 
significant  just  because  it  has  no  such  natural  origin 
and  history.  But  to  the  psychologist  it  remains  clear 
that  the  man  is  genuinely  religious  in  so  far  as  his 
symbols,  ceremonials,  institutions,  and  heroes  enable 
him  to  share  in  a  social  life.  It  is  also  psychologically 
evident  that  the  man  who  tries  to  maintain  religious 
sentiment  apart  from  social  experience  is  to  that  ex- 
tent irreligious,  whatever  he  may  claim  for  himself; 
while  the  man  who  enters  thoroughly  into  the  social 
movements  of  his  time  is  to  that  extent  genuinelj^  reli- 
gious, though  he  may  characterize  himself  quite  other- 
wise. Again  a  psychological  estimate  of  a  given  person 
may  show  that  the  interests  and  activities  on  account 
of  which  he  considers  himself  religious  do  not  in  fact 
make  him  religious  so  much  as  do  the  benevolent, 
philanthropic,  and  civic  concerns  in  which  he  engages 
without  ascribing  to  them  any  religious  values.  From 
this  standpoint  the  classification  of  persons  as  religious 
or  nonreligious  would  not  coincide  with  conventional 
distinctions.   It  would  follow  more  closely  the  socio- 

358 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

legist's  grouping  of  persons  according  to  their  social 
attitudes  and  habits. 

Nonreligious  persons  are  accordingly  those  who 
fail  to  enter  vitally  into  a  world  of  social  activities  and 
feelings.  They  remain  unresponsive  to  the  obligations 
and  the  incentives  of  the  social  order.  They  are  lack- 
ing in  the  sense  of  ideal  values  which  constitutes  the 
social  conscience.  It  is  not  possible  to  draw  the  lines 
of  separation  with  great  precision,  and  it  may  not  be 
easy  to  determine  individual  cases.  But  there  are  two 
or  three  classes  of  nonreligious  persons  not  difficult  to 
describe  in  the  main  features.  One  class  includes  those 
who  lack  the  mentality  or  the  organization  of  impulses 
necessary  to  enable  them  to  share  in  the  appreciation 
and  effective  pursuit  of  ideals.  No  one  can  doubt  that 
this  is  the  case  with  the  defective  and  delinquent 
classes.  Idiots,  imbeciles,  the  insane,  many  paupers 
and  persons  suffering  from  hysteria  and  certain  other 
diseases  are  of  this  type.  They  are  too  unstable  and 
inchoate  to  appreciate  even  in  a  formal,  conventional 
manner  the  customs  and  controlling  sentiments  of 
society.  The  social  life  is  a  work  of  the  imagination 
through  which  one  is  able  to  enter  sensitively  and 
intelligently  into  the  experience  of  other  persons  and 
to  maintain  toward  them  consistent  and  dependable 
relations.  This  requires  adjustment  to  many  individ- 
uals, not  only  to  those  who  live  immediately  within 
one's  sense  perception,  but  also  to  those  who  move  in 
memory  and  those  who  dwell  in  the  realms  of  fancy. 
It  is  the  imagination  which  makes  any  of  these  real  to 
us.  In  this  social  world  of  the  imagination  exist  the 
real  commandments  of  the  moral  law  and  the  duties 

359 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

of  the  spiritual  life.  To  be  a  part  of  this  society  one 
must  be  able  to  form  efficient  habits,  employ  memory 
and  foresight,  and  hold  with  some  tenacity  to  ideal  pur- 
poses. Without  these  ciualities  one  cannot  belong  to 
the  political  state,  to  the  company  of  artists,  to  the 
schools  of  the  scientists,  to  unions  of  labor,  to  the  cor- 
porations of  business  men,  nor  to  the  clubs  of  the 
professional  classes.  For  the  same  reason  whoever  is 
incapable  of  such  reactions  cannot  be  religious.  The 
sociologists  have  not  hesitated  to  draw  this  conclusion 
with  reference  to  other  social  activities,  and  the  same 
considerations  make  it  pertinent  to  religion.  "Men 
and  women  w^ho  are  physically  diseased  cannot,  as  a 
rule,  perform  their  social  tasks  efficiently.  .  .  .  Weak- 
willed,  slothful,  intemperate,  passionate,  depraved 
persons  cannot  be  combined  into  normal  families,  and 
although  some  of  them  may  perform  certain  tasks 
well,  on  the  whole,  these  classes  impair  the  health  of 
all  groups  and  organs  to  which  they  belong,  and  help 
to  form  and  maintain  institutions  which  are  a  constant 
menace  to  society."  ^ 

A  second  class  of  nonreligious  persons  consists  of 
those  who  are  not  defective  or  diseased,  but  whose 
mental  life  is  not  organized  in  accordance  with  the 
scale  of  values  which  is  recognized  by  the  morally 
mature  and  efficient  persons  of  the  community.  These 
are  the  irresponsible,  inconsequential  individuals  who 
live  in  the  present,  largely  controlled  by  their  sensuous 
impulses,  without  comprehensive  purposes  or  stand- 
ards. They  are  found  at  all  levels  of  the  social  world, 
not  only  among  the  idle  rich,  but  also  among  the  im- 

^  Small  and  Vincent,  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  SoQi^iy,  p.  269. 

360 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

provident  poor  and  the  delinquents.  The  sporting 
element  of  the  community  as  described  by  Veblen 
belongs  here.  He  shows  that  habitual  sportsmen 
represent  "an  archaic  spiritual  constitution,"  and 
"  an  arrested  development  of  the  man's  moral  nature." 
Sportsmen  are  likely  to  credit  themselves  with  a  love 
of  nature,  a  need  of  recreation,  and  to  hide  from  them- 
selves the  real  purposelessness  of  their  sport.  By  these 
reflections  and  by  other  illusory  impressions  they  con- 
vince themselves  that  there  is  some  genuine  purpose 
in  their  "dexterous  or  emulative  exertion."  Veblen 
states  it  thus:  "Sports  —  hunting,  angling,  athletic 
games,  and  the  like  —  afford  an  exercise  for  dexterity 
and  for  the  emulative  ferocity  and  astuteness  charac- 
teristic of  predatory  life.  So  long  as  the  individual  is 
but  slightly  gifted  with  reflection  or  with  a  sense  of 
the  ulterior  trend  of  his  actions,  —  so  long  as  his  life 
is  substantially  a  life  of  naive  impulsive  action,  —  so 
long  the  immediate  and  unreflected  purposefulness  of 
sports,  in  the  way  of  an  expression  of  dominance,  will 
measurably  satisfy  his  instinct  of  workmanship.  This 
is  especially  true  if  his  dominant  impulses  are  unre- 
flecting emulative  propensities  of  the  predaceous 
temperament."^ 

Others  of  this  class  represent,  if  possible,  still  less 
organization  of  impulses  than  the  sportsmen.  Where 
the  natural  means  of  developing  instincts  through  the 
customary  responsibilities  of  real  tasks  are  absent,  the 
instincts  are  apt  to  appear  in  crude,  unregulated  ex- 
cesses. This  is  seen  in  those  individuals  who  by  in- 
heritance of  wealth  or  sudden  success  in  securing  it 
1  T.  Veblen,  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class,  p.  260. 

361 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

seem  to  lose  control  and  direction  of  their  powers.  The 
modern  woman  is  frequently  cited  in  illustration  of 
the  effect  of  withdrawing  human  nature  from  the 
restraining,  supporting  influence  of  real  work  and 
serious  enterprises.  Thomas  shows  that  because  man 
controls  wealth  and  the  substantial  interests  of  so- 
ciety, woman  is  left  to  gratify  her  instinctive  interest 
in  display.  She  may  even  make  marriage  an  occasion 
of  more  elaborate  display,  insisting  on  the  employ- 
ment of  sufficient  servants  and  other  aids  to  make  this 
possible.  "The  American  woman  of  the  better  classes 
has  superior  rights  and  no  duties,  and  yet  she  is 
worrying  herself  to  death  —  not  over  specific  troubles, 
but  because  she  has  lost  her  connection  with  reality. 
Many  women,  more  intelligent  and  energetic  than 
their  husbands  and  brothers,  have  no  more  serious 
occupations  than  to  play  the  house-cat  with  or  with- 
out ornament."^  It  is  these  women  who  are  the 
habitues  of  the  matinee  and  the  afternoon  musical  and 
are  the  devotees  of  card  clubs.  They  occasionally 
allow  themselves  the  further  diversion  of  charity  balls 
and  the  prevailing  "devout  observances." 

A  third  class  of  the  nonreligious  includes  those  who 
have  more  definite  intellectual  and  habitual  organiza- 
tion, and  are  consequently  more  powerful.  These  are 
the  criminal  classes,  whose  chief  psychological  charac- 
teristic is  that  they  conceive  other  persons  and  society 
in  such  ways  as  to  subordinate  all  other  interests  to 
some  one  or  few  desires  which  are  low  and  narrow. 
The  confirmed  thief,  for  example,  regards  individuals 
and  communities  with  reference  to  the  one  point  of 
^  W.  I.  Thomas,  Sex  and  Society,  p.  240. 
362 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

the  spoil  they  may  afford.    He  becomes  extremely 
clever  in  constructing  in  imagination  the   personal 
traits,  habits,  and  surroundings  of  the  victim.    But 
instead   of  using  this   insight  for  social   cooperation 
and  for  sympathetic  devotion  to  objective  interests, 
he  subverts  it  to  private  ends.   His  knowledge  of  men 
becomes  his  strongest  weapon  against   them.    Such 
exploitation   appears   in   its  most   appreciable    form 
where  the  outrage  is  committed  against  the  person  of 
individuals  with  violence  and  blood.   But  the  psycho- 
logical abnormality  is  seen  on  a  grand  scale  where  the 
thief  operates  more  indirectly  and  insidiously  with  the 
vast  and  complex  social  relations  represented  by  the 
highly  organized  industrial  and  financial  systems  of 
the  modern  world.    Such  a  robber,  to  be  successful, 
reejuires  even  greater  imagination  for  the  motives  and 
mentality  of  other  persons  than  does  the  honest  capi- 
talist or  manager:  for  he  must  not  only  use  the  legiti- 
mate methods  of  business,  but  at  certain  points  he 
must  divert  them  from  the  proper  channels  and  at  the 
same  time  avoid  detection.   To  escape  with  the  plun- 
der may  require  more  brains  than  to  seize  it. 

In  the  confessions  of  criminals  this  perverse  manner 
of  apperceiving  persons  is  apparent.  To  the  highway- 
man the  citizen  on  the  street  is  simply  an  object  with 
a  purse,  and  with  more  or  less  elaborate  equipment 
for  protecting  the  purse  by  resistance,  flight,  and  out- 
cries. The  plans  which  the  citizen  may  have  for  using 
the  money  to  buy  food  for  his  children  or  to  aid  the 
unemployed  are  totally  discounted  by  the  robber  and 
have  no  place  in  his  image  of  the  case.  Even  the  pain 
incident  to  the  "hold-up"  is  ignored  through  eager- 

363 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

ness  for  the  pelf.  A  thief  recounting  how  he  had  told 
a  society  lady  the  method  by  which  he  might  get  her 
diamond  pin,  said:  "It  was  fastened  in  such  a  way 
that  to  get  it,  strong  arm  work  would  be  necessary. 
I  explained  how  I  would  '  put  the  mug  on  her '  while 
my  husky  pal  went  through  her.  '  But,'  she  said,  '  that 
would  hurt  me.'  As  if  the  grafters  cared!  What  a 
selfish  lady  to  be  always  thinking  of  herself!"  ^  The 
same  criminal,  as  he  lay  on  his  cot  in  prison,  reflected: 
"Yes,  I  have  stripes  on.  When  I  am  released  perhaps 
some  one  will  pity  me,  particularly  the  women.  They 
may  despise  and  avoid  me,  most  likely  they  will.  But 
I  don't  care.  All  I  want  is  to  get  their  wad  of  money."  ^ 
The  studies  of  criminals  show  that  such  a  rigid 
mental  state,  convergent  upon  some  inadequate  end 
or  disproportionate  desire  is  their  chief  psychical 
trait.  Along  with  this  there  is  naturally  found  less 
sensibility,  fewer  ideas,  and  lower  intelligence  than  in 
normal  persons.^  Crime  is  rare  among  scientists,  and 
in  general  a  developed  mind,  being  better  able  to  take 
in  the  various  phases  of  the  whole  situation  and  pos- 
sessing greater  foresight,  is  restrained  from  such  un- 
social conduct.  Or,  on  the  positive  side,  an  educated, 
cultivated  normal  mind  is  usually  more  aware  of  the 
ideal  claims  of  the  human  world  and  more  sensitive 
to  their  appeal.  The  trained  socially  sane  individual 
is  therefore  best  able  to  construct  in  his  own  imagina- 

^  Hutchins  Hapgood,  Autobiography  of  a  Thief,  p.  71. 

^  See  Giddings'  description  of  the  "anti-social  class,"  Principles  of 
Sociology,  p.  127. 

^  Havelock  Ellis,    The  Criminal,  chapter  iv,  130  flF.;   MacDonald, 
Criminology,  chapter  iv. 

364 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

tion  the  interplay  of  motives  and  purposes  in  the  mem- 
bers of  the  race  at  a  given  point  and  throughout  his- 
tory, and  to  hold  tenaciously  to  those  moral  standards 
with  which  the  highest  religious  life  is  bound  up. 
Those  who  do  not,  either  by  reflective  imitation  and 
assent,  or  by  conscious  volition,  support  and  further 
these  ideal  ends  are  nonreligious. 

It  follows  from  this  functional  manner  of  conceiving 
the  matter  that  the  religious  consciousness  is  subject 
to  the  same  variations,  alterations,  complications,  and 
abnormalities  as  other  forms  of  consciousness.  It  is 
marked  by  the  same  indefiniteness  in  estimating  indi- 
vidual cases,  and  yet  in  the  average  and  on  the  whole 
it  is  no  more  difficult  to  determine.  It  is  frequently 
very  puzzUng  to  decide  whether  a  certain  person  is 
sane  or  insane,  whether  he  is  a  genius  or  a  crank.  But 
in  general  our  working  standards  are  sufficient.  Re- 
ligion, like  art,  science,  and  statesmanship,  is  a  matter 
of  degree  and  of  variation.  Like  other  attitudes  it  is 
subject  to  cultivation  and  to  increment,  and  also  to 
neglect  and  degeneration.  It  is  dependent  upon  at- 
tention, association,  and  habit,  and  in  a  growing  social 
order  a  process  of  readjustment  and  adaptation  is  as 
necessary  in  religion  as  in  any  other  interest.  The 
"final  perseverance  of  the  saints"  cannot  possibly 
signify  any  greater  stability  than  that  represented  by 
the  persistence  of  habit  and  custom  and  by  the  ability 
to  readapt  habit  and  custom  to  meet  the  new  demands 
of  the  changing  social  order. 

The  most  intense  and  closely  articulated  expressions 
of  the  religious  consciousness  undergo  radical  modifi- 
cations under  the  stress  of  new  economic  and  social 

365     • 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

forces.  Witness  the  rise  of  Protestantism,  and,  more 
recently,  the  appearance  of  Modernism  within  CathoHc 
Christianity.  Still  more  crucial  is  the  development  of 
rationalistic  and  liberal  social  tendencies  within  Pro- 
testantism. New  industrial  conditions,  new  scientific 
and  historical  conceptions  of  nature  and  of  human  life, 
and  manifold  agencies,  cooperating  to  expand  know- 
ledge, to  furnish  new  measures  of  freedom  and  respon- 
sibility to  the  individual,  are  creating  new  types  of 
value,  different  ideals  of  conduct,  and  unaccustomed 
goals  of  endeavor.  The  religious  symbols  of  Dante 
and  Milton  belonged  to  the  Ptolemaic  order,  but  their 
incongruity  with  the  Copernican  universe  is  just  being 
felt  with  full  force  by  the  popular  mind.  The  result 
is  that  there  is  great  confusion  on  every  hand  with 
reference  to  religious  experience.  The  old  forms  and 
symbols  possess  an  attractive  familiarity  and  seeming 
simplicity.  They  appear  so  immediate  and  so  vener- 
able that  it  is  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  those 
who  have  employed  them  can  give  them  the  critical 
analysis  and  historical  setting  which  is  necessary  to 
realize  that  they  are  the  products  of  a  passing  social 
system.  On  the  contrary,  the  emerging  world  order  is 
so  vast  and  intricate,  so  much  a  thing  of  cloistered 
specialists  and  of  undisciplined  democratic  enthusi- 
asts, that  it  is  yet  vague  and  crude,  without  adequate 
prophets  in  literature  or  art,  to  provide  expressive  and 
convincing  symbols. 

This  transition  period  produces  a  variety  of  types 
of  religious  consciousness.  Among  the  most  charac- 
teristic are  those  who  live  in  the  new  world  of  business 
and  social  concerns  but  cling  to  the  old  religious  terms 

366 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

and  notions.  They  simply  illustrate  the  dual  person- 
ality which  modern  psychology  has  found  to  be  fre- 
quent even  among  normal  people.  Two  or  more  sets 
of  habits  and  mental  reactions  are  kept  quite  distinct. 
This  dualism  is  aided  by  the  fact  that  religious  obser- 
vances are  so  much  given  over  to  special  days,  sepa- 
rate institutions,  and  socially  segregated  functionaries. 
The  isolation  of  religion  is  also  effected  by  the  use  of  a 
special  literature  from  a  foreign  age  and  people,  trans- 
lated into  archaic  forms  of  speech.  This  literature, 
elaborated  in  numberless  commentaries  and  devo- 
tional books,  supplies  its  own  unique  historic  back- 
ground, its  familiar  human  characters  and  vivid  inci- 
dents which  furnish  endless  subjects  for  reflection  and 
entertainment  without  necessitating  any  reference  to 
the  facts  and  problems  of  contemporaneous  experi- 
ence. It  is  therefore  quite  possible  for  a  man,  without 
conscious  inconsistency,  to  be  devoutly  religious  in 
the  churchly  sense,  and  at  the  same  time  to  pursue 
his  business  or  profession  as  if  it  belonged  to  another 
sphere.  He  may  even  employ  methods  which  his  reli- 
gion does  not  sanction,  and  justify  it  on  the  ground 
that  "business  is  business."  Or  he  may  be  honorable 
in  his  dealings  and  charitably  disposed  to  the  com- 
munity without  considering  such  labor  and  charity 
among  his  religious  virtues.  He  may  not  regard  work 
on  the  board  of  the  town  library  or  hospital  as  part  of 
his  religious  activity. 

A  second  type  resulting  from  the  present  situation 
is  represented  by  many  school-teachers,  settlement 
workers,  philanthropists,  and  patriots  who  devote 
themselves  assiduously  to  the  relief  of  human  suffer- 

367 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ing  and  to  the  betterment  of  the  conditions  of  life, 
but  who  stand  outside  the  existing  ecclesiastical  insti- 
tutions.   Accepting  the  narrow,  traditional  notion  of 
religion,  they  allow  themselves  to  be  considered  non- 
religious,  although  their  feeling  for  the  big  human  sit- 
uations is  sometimes  keen  and  heroic  enough  to  con- 
stitute them  a  new  order  of  saints.   It  would  scarcely 
alter  the  fact  that  they  are  genuinely  and  practically 
religious,  if  they  were  openly  opposed  to  the  conven- 
tional beliefs  and  ceremonies.  Religion,  in  a  psychical, 
as  well  as  a  scriptural  sense,  is  a  matter  of  the  spirit 
rather  than  of  the  letter.    The  tithing  of  mint,  anise, 
and  cummin  are  not  so  important  that  their  perform- 
ance or  their  neglect  is  of  much  consequence.    It  is 
the  weightier  matters  of  justice,  of  sympathy,  and  of 
intelligence  which  determine  whether  one  is  religious 
in  a  vital  sense.    As  a  result  of  the  prevailing  con- 
fusion many  persons  are  really  religious  who  think 
themselves  either  indifferent  to  religion  or  positively 
opposed  to  it. 

There  is  yet  another  type  of  mind  which  attains 
with  difficulty,  if  at  all,  a  thoroughly  socialized  con- 
sciousness. There  is  a  tendency  for  specialists  in 
highly  organized  occupations  to  work  within  their 
chosen  limits  and  to  lose  sight  of  community  inter- 
ests. It  is  not  alone  the  operator  of  a  machine,  or  the 
workman  who  performs  monotonously  the  same 
movements  day  after  day  who  is  in  danger  of  losing 
appreciation  of  the  larger  task  to  which  he  contrib- 
utes. His  work  is  perhaps  the  most  deadening  just 
because  it  is  so  largely  a  matter  of  recurring,  invari- 
able physical  reactions.    But  the  scientific  specialist 

3G8 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

and  technical  expert  who  exercises  a  highly  developed 
mind  may  also  absorb  himself  in  his  task  and  take  no 
serious  account  of  the  community  life  which  sustains 
him  in  the  pursuit  of  his  specialty.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  any  justifiable  labor  does  not  somehow  have 
such  reference  to  the  interests  of  others  that  it  may 
be  more  effectively  carried  on  with  awareness  of  such 
implications.  In  any  case  the  individual  who  does 
concentrate  upon  a  specialty  to  the  neglect  of  social 
duties  to  that  extent  narrows  his  world  of  personal 
relations  and  reduces  his  sensitiveness  with  reference 
to  the  common  ends  of  the  social  body.  If  the  motor 
phases  of  consciousness  have  a  determining  effect 
upon  ideational  processes,  then  the  very  fact  of  limit- 
ing one's  self  to  the  work-bench  or  the  laboratory  will 
limit  the  perspective  of  one's  outlook  and  of  one's 
social  imagination.  This  may  account  to  some  extent 
for  the  present  indifference  among  large  classes  of 
workmen,  scientist,  and  artist  to  the  problems  of 
religion.  — 

In  one  form  or  another  the  difficulty  for  most  ear- 
nest persons  with  reference  to  religion  is  that  the  sym- 
bols and  imagery  which  are  at  hand  are  not  satisfying 
because  they  belong  to  an  outgrown  order;  while  the 
activities  and  conceptions  which  engage  attention  are 
not  yet  expressed  in  sufficiently  definite  and  familiar 
ideals.  Our  modern  ideals  have  not  yet  developed  a 
sufficient  history,  richness,  sanctitj^  and  authority  to 
give  them  religious  value.  They  are  not  commonly 
enough  recognized  and  accepted  to  furnish  an  outline 
and  scaffolding  in  which  the  thought  of  men  is  organ- 
ized with  the  objectivity  and  insistence  of  the  old 

369 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

forms.  "In  times  of  intellectual  unsettlement,  like 
the  present,  the  ideal  may  become  disorganized  and 
scattered,  the  face  of  God  blurred  to  the  view,  like  the 
reflection  of  the  sun  in  troubled  waters.  And  at  the 
same  time  the  creeds  become  incredible,  so  that,  until 
new  ones  can  be  worked  out  and  diffused,  each  man 
must  either  make  one  for  himself  —  a  task  to  which 
few  are  equal  —  or  undergo  distraction,  or  cease  to 
think  about  such  matters  if  he  can." 

The  most  casual  inquiry  among  thoughtful  people 
confirms  this.  In  the  questionnaire  already  referred  to, 
one  of  the  questions  was.  Do  you  consider  yourself 
religious,  and  why.f^  About  one  fourth  of  the  respond- 
ents answered  either  that  they  did  not  consider  them- 
selves religious,  or  that  they  did  not  know  whether  or 
not  they  were  religious.  In  nearly  every  instance  the 
reasons  given  were  that  some  traditional  belief  had 
been  discarded  or  public  worship  discontinued.  For 
example,  one  says:  "I  presume  I  am  nonreligious  be- 
cause I  cannot  agree  with  any  sect  I  know  of  and  I 
have  nothing  definite  to  offer  instead."  Another  re- 
plies: "I  have  for  the  past  ten  years  considered  my- 
self nonreligious,  or  rather  this  has  been  a  growing 
conviction,  because:  1.  I  am  not  interested  in  church 
activities  of  an  intra-church  kind ;  2.  I  get  no  pleasant 
emotional  reaction  of  a  religious  kind  from  attendance 
at  church  or  from  commingling  with  worshipers  at 
church." 

In  the  two  following  experiences  there  is  definite 
renunciation  of  some  central  beliefs  of  the  orthodox 
faith  and  yet  an  inclination  to  take  the  side  of  religion : 
"  I  honor  Jesus  Christ  as  a  beautiful  inspiring  example, 

370 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

but  it  seems  impossible  for  me  to  think  of  him  as  di- 
vinity. I  like  to  go  to  church  because  I  believe  that 
the  influence  of  all  working  towards  the  right  and  the 
moral  is  good.  I  like  the  thoughtful  atmosphere.  I 
consider  myself  religious  because  I  think  seriously  of 
religious  and  ultimate  problems.  I  do  not  believe  in  a 
personal  God.  Such  a  conception  to  me  is  illogical.  I 
think  that  religious  belief  should  be  the  natural  growth 
of  a  man's  experience."  This  statement  is  from  an 
active  church  worker  and  Sunday-school  teacher:  "I 
do  not  know  whether  I  am  religious  or  not.  I  have  no 
practical  faith  in  God.  I  get  no  strength  outside  of 
myself —  except  from  human  beings;  and  I  have  no 
desire  for  a  personal  life  after  death.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  believe  that  a  moral  life  is  the  only  thing 
worth  while.  I  desire  to  work  out  my  own  salvation, 
here  and  now;  and  I  wish  (in  a  half-hearted  way)  to 
see  all  people  know  the  joy  of  right  living.  That  seems 
to  be  religious  —  in  theory." 

Two  who  are  doubtful  about  their  being  religious 
suggest  the  explanation  that  it  is  probably  due  to  lack 
of  attention  to  the  subject.  One  of  them  says:  "Do 
not  know  whether  I  am  religious  or  not,  as  I  have  never 
been  able  to  define  the  term.  Religion  has  never  taken 
a  deep  hold  of  me,  and  what  has  at  times  stirred  this 
emotion  in  friends  most  violently  has  usually  lacked 
point  for  me.  I  have  given  religious  matters  very 
little  attention."  The  other  experience  is  this:  "No, 
I  do  not  think  I  am  religious.  I  have  never  taken 
any  interest  in  any  church  life  nor  have  I  ever  done 
any  work  for  the  church  —  I  have  had  no  time  for  any 
religious  work." 

371 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

The  three  cases  which  follow  indicate  that  the  per- 
sons have  worked  their  way  further  through  the  prob- 
lem and  have  nearly  reached  the  point  of  calling 
themselves  religious,  but  from  a  radically  different 
standpoint  than  that  of  orthodox  teaching.  "Since 
becoming  a  member  of  the  church  I  have  attended 
quite  regularly,  but  my  faith  in  the  church  as  an  insti- 
tution and  in  the  Bible  as  the  work  of  God,  has  stead- 
ily decreased.  I  have  tried  to  study  honestly  and 
fair-mindedly,  and  my  studies  lead  me  steadily  farther 
away  from  those  beliefs.  In  other  fields,  the  only 
instance  I  can  suggest  is  in  the  matter  of  my  profes- 
sion. From  childhood  I  was  possessed  of  the  desire  to 
be  a  physician,  and  all  my  early  work  was  toward  that 
end.  If  by  the  term  'religious'  we  mean  a  belief  in  the 
Bible  and  its  teachings,  a  belief  in  God  and  in  the 
church,  then  I  am  not  religious.  If  by  religion  we 
mean  a  sincere  endeavor  to  live  up  to  a  code  of  morals, 
to  do  right  as  we  see  it,  to  play  the  man  in  relation  to 
our  fellow  men,  then  I  am  at  least  trying  to  be  re- 
ligious." 

"If  the  standard  of  religion  includes  simply  the 
idea  of  futurity  and  God,  with  its  practical  social  ap- 
plication through  the  church,  I  consider  myself  re- 
ligious. But  according  to  my  former  standard  before 
being  influenced  by  modern  teaching,  I  should  not 
now  consider  myself  religious,  —  e.  g.  implicit  belief 
in  the  infallibility  of  the  Bible,  the  virtue  of  belief, 
and  the  idea  of  redemption  through  vicarious  suffer- 
ing would  be  essential." 

"Do  not  know  about  being  religious,  but  do  know 
that  there  is  a  sincere  desire  to  follow  the  highest 

372 


NONRELIGIOUS   PERSONS 

ideals  and  do  the  most  good  one  can  in  the  world,  for 
it  is  only  this  that  makes  life  truly  worth  while.  I 
believe  in  a  religion  of  helpfulness  and  cheerfulness, 
trusting  the  Divine  Spirit  which  is  surely  in  his  world 
and  will  somehow  bring  things  around  right." 

The  following  experience  is  suggestive  of  a  large 
class  who  incline  to  identify  the  religious  and  the 
esthetic  consciousness.  There  is  little  sympathy  here 
for  either  orthodoxy  or  social  interests.  "The  more  I 
think  about  it,  the  more  I  have  found  it  impossible  to 
say  whether  I  am  religious  or  not.  I  have  always  felt 
a  deep  interest  and  a  strong  desire  to  support  any 
movement  towards  breadth  of  interpretation,  but 
this  is  due  merely  to  a  dislike  of  dogma.  Personally  I 
get  no  inspiration  or  religious  value  from  Unitarianism 
or  any  religion  which  stresses  the  moral  or  rational 
side  of  religion.  As  far  as  I  can  see,  I  have  absolutely 
no  needs  which  cannot  be  satisfied  better  outside 
religion  than  in  it.  Apart  from  its  dogmatism,  the 
personal,  pragmatic  attitude  of  all  evangelical  protes- 
tant  churches  I  have  known,  arouses  instinctive  preju- 
dices in  me.  On  the  other  hand,  participation  in  a 
service  of  an  Episcopal  or  Anglican  Church  puts  me 
in  a  mood  that  might  perhaps  be  called  religious. 
The  service  impresses  me  as  voicing  but  one  need,  and 
that  an  impersonal  one,  the  need  of  worship.  Some- 
times the  mood  becomes  definite  enough  to  centre 
around  my  own  ideals;  more  often  it  is  vague  and 
without  a  definite  object.  In  no  case  do  I  make  any 
effort  at  reinterpretation  of  the  ideas  involved  in  the 
service.  In  my  happiest  times,  they  cease  to  be  facts 
or  dogmas  and  become  real  in  the  same  way  as  the 

373 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ideas  of  a  beautiful  poem.  This  value  seems  to  me  a 
little  different  from  a  purely  esthetic  value.  I  do  not 
know  whether  it  is  religious  or  not." 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  note  that  two  clergymen  in 
an  orthodox  denomination,  themselves  liberal  men, 
however,  gave  the  following  reasons  for  considering 
themselves  religious:  "A  conscience  that  makes  me 
trouble  and  a  love  of  the  right  and  the  truth."  The 
other's  reason  was,  "An  abiding  desire  for  the  best  in 
life." 

This  experience  of  a  scientist  is  included  because 
it  describes  so  well  the  process  through  which  many 
minds  are  finding  their  way  to  a  constructive  religious 
faith  after  the  new  order.  It  is  a  fair  illustration  of  the 
religious  consciousness  of  those  who  are  yet  too  often 
considered  nonreligious.  "I  think  most  of  us  have 
passed  through  very  much  the  same  general  experi- 
ence regarding  religious  matters.  As  boys  we  wfere 
taught  the  elements  of  Christianity;  were  brought  up 
in  one  or  another  of  the  Christian  sects ;  were  told  of 
God  and  of  heaven  and  of  hell,  and  generally  given 
the  idea  that  this  was  religion  and  the  basis  of  moral- 
ity. I  think  most  of  us  accepted  this  as  we  accepted 
other  things  told  us,  or  that  we  learned  in  childhood 
without  reasoning  or  thinking  about  it  at  all,  and  that 
though  it  lay  there  in  our  minds  as  we  matured,  we 
paid  small  attention  to  it,  finding  it  really  touched  our 
lives  but  little.  We  took  our  place  in  the  world  of  men 
and  facts  around  us,  and  our  work  and  duties  ab- 
sorbed us  more  and  more  till  this  early  religious  train- 
ing was  quite  overlaid.  To  the  extent  that  we  later 
thought  of  it  we  found  it  primitive  and  unsatisfactory. 

374 


NONRELIGIOUS  PERSONS 

It  was  neither  the  basis  of  our  own  lives  nor  of  the 
lives  of  those  we  met.  Our  code  was  not  this  code, 
our  ethics  not  founded  on  any  such  system  of  future 
rewards  and  punishments.  These  things  might  be,  — 
but  we,  and  others,  acted  as  though  they  were  not. 
Our  lives  were  simpler,  more  direct  and  material.  Cer- 
tain things  we  felt  right  and  did,  certain  other  things 
wrong  and  tried  to  avoid.  If  we  questioned  the  origin 
of  these  feelings  there  seemed  to  be  a  more  immediate 
rational  explanation  of  them  than  that  they  were 
taught  two  thousand  years  ago,  or  that  the  one  way 
led  to  hell  and  the  other  to  heaven.  In  short,  we  had 
outgrown  the  forms  of  our  childhood,  and  religion  and 
conduct  were  for  us  divorced. 

"But  while  we  were  outgrowing  certain  forms  we 
were  growing  into  certain  perceptions  and  feelings. 
We  were  studying  nature  or  life  itself,  and  the  immen- 
sity and  grandeur  of  ichat  is  were  laying  their  hold 
upon  us.  The  immeasurable  lapse  of  time,  the  infini- 
tude of  space,  the  mighty  rush  and  swirl  of  cosmic 
energy,  the  infinite  richness  and  variety  of  nature,  the 
myriad  forms  of  organic  life,  and,  perhaps  more  than 
all  else,  the  slow,  sure  march  of  evolution  and  the 
immobility  of  law,  were  opening  our  consciousness  to 
new  perceptions  and  emotions.  It  is  these  emotions 
which  typify  for  me  to-day  religious  feeling,  as  I  think 
they  do  for  many  other  scientific  men,  and  I  offer  as 
my  definition  of  religion  what  Haeckel  has  called 
'cosmic  emotion.' "  ^ 

If  this  experience  had  continued  on  to  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  social  world,  as  viewed  from  the  standpoint 
^  H.  B.  Mitchell,  Talks  on  Religion,  pp.  15  f. 

375 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  the  evolutionary  processes  and  the  immanent  ideals 
of  the  human  moral  order,  it  would  have  expressed  in 
fairly  adequate  terms  the  feeling  for  reality  and  ex- 
perience which  is  coming  to  be  recognized  as  the  sub- 
stance of  modern  religious  faitho 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   PSYCHOLOGY   OF   RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

In  the  foregoing  discussion  the  conclusion  has  been 
reached  from  several  standpoints  that  the  social  con- 
sciousness, in  its  most  intimate  and  vital  phases,  is 
identical  with  religion.  In  primitive  society  this  rela- 
tion is  more  obvious  because  it  is  more  simple  and 
direct.  Since  there  is  little  freedom  for  the  individual, 
his  habits  and  superstitions  are  fairly  typical  for  all 
his  kin.  Even  there,  however,  in  spite  of  all  rigidity, 
there  are  slow  currents  and  occasional  crises,  which 
effect  some  modification  of  myth  and  ceremonial,  and 
not  infrequently  impose  new  or  foreign  customs  and 
traditions  upon  older  formations.  These  changes  in 
the  life  of  the  tribe  operate  through  the  activities  and 
minds  of  individuals,  such  as  the  head  men  or  other 
leaders  of  the  group.  In  the  Australian  tribes  the 
authority  of  the  old  men  to  institute  slight  changes 
is  definitely  established.^  The  individual,  at  this  low 
stage,  is  therefore  not  merely  the  passive  medium  of 
the  common  life,  but  also  experiences  and  contributes 
actively  to  its  readjustments.  His  mind  is  the  living 
expression  of  the  social  mind,  and  the  social  mind  in 
turn  is  none  other  than  the  minds  of  the  individuals 
bound  together  in  the  common  life. 

In  highly  developed  societies  the  same  general  re- 
lation exists,  only  here  the  activities  are  more  varied 
^  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  272. 

377 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  more  difficult  to  trace.  The  social  groupings  are 
more  numerous,  complex,  and  subtle.  It  is  difficult 
to  determine  by  casual  observation  what  particular 
persons  constitute  a  man's  social  milieu.  The  edu- 
cated, widely  experienced  man  mingles  with  many 
classes,  and  is  identified  with  various  groups  in  busi- 
ness, professional,  and  neighborhood  life.  Yet  the 
standards  of  his  ideal  interests  may  be  those  of  still 
another  set.  In  a  cosmopolitan  community  a  person 
may  be  held  within  family  and  race  associations  to 
such  an  extent  that  he  is  relatively  insensible  to  the 
inner  life  of  other  circles  into  w^hich  his  trade  or  pro- 
fession frequently  carries  him.  In  any  great  American 
city,  where  immigrants  are  colonized,  there  are  many 
who  live  outwardly  with  the  world  around  them,  while 
within  they  maintain  a  constant  reference  to  their  own 
racial,  family  ideals  and  social  customs.  Hutchins 
Hapgood  has  vividly  described  this  in  the  case  of  the 
Russian  Jew.  "When  the  Jew  comes  to  America  he 
remains,  if  he  is  old,  essentially  the  same  as  he  was  in 
Russia.  His  deeply  rooted  habits  and  the  'worry  of 
daily  bread '  make  him  but  little  sensitive  to  the  con- 
ditions of  his  new  home.  His  imagination  lives  in  the 
old  country  and  he  gets  his  consolation  in  the  old 
religion."^ 

One  may  thus  by  training  and  by  prolonged  exer- 
cise of  the  imagination  identify  himself  with  select 
companies  of  a  distant  time  and  place,  for  example, 
with  the  Greek  Stoics  or  the  primitive  Christians.  By 
intimate  familiarity  with  their  habits,  temper,  and 
ideals  it  is  possible  to  derive  from  them  spiritual 
1  The  Spirit  of  the  Ghetto,  p.  10. 
378 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

companionships,  controlling  tastes,  and  regulative 
practices.  A  similar  selection  and  identification  may- 
be made  with  the  widely  scattered  members  of  one's 
profession  or  party.  It  is  by  this  imaginative  vivid- 
ness and  intellectual  sympathy  that  the  cautious, 
sensitive  scientific  temper  fortifies  itself.  The  scientist 
is  more  mindful  of  the  masters  in  his  specialty  than  of 
all  the  world  beside.  It  is  the  opinion  of  that  particu- 
lar company,  however  small  and  scattered,  which 
expands  or  contracts  his  ego,  while  to  the  judgments 
of  others  he  is  relatively  indifferent.  Every  person  of 
normal  mind  and  action  appeals  to  his  set,  —  to  his 
club,  his  family,  his  church,  his  union,  his  fellow  sci- 
entists, with  a  sensitivity  which  is  entirely  beyond  any 
rational  intent  or  calculation.  The  individual  con- 
sciousness is  thus  embedded  in  a  kind  of  social  pro- 
toplasm, of  which  it  is  so  intimately  and  organically  a 
part  that  the  changes  and  adjustments  in  either  radi- 
ate into  and  affect  the  other  most  vitally.  Just  what 
elements  of  the  social  protoplasm,  that  is,  what  par- 
ticular social  organizations,  sustain  the  most  immedi- 
ate and  controlling  relations  to  a  given  individual  it 
may  be  difficult  to  determine.  But  since  there  is  this 
connection  for  every  sane,  efficient  person,  the  social 
psychology  of  particular  groups  is  an  aid  in  the  inter- 
pretation of  individual  minds.  And  in  periods  of 
change  and  transition,  the  perception  of  this  rela- 
tionship may  afford  illumination  for  many  difficulties. 
At  the  present  time  there  is  a  notable  movement  in 
the  whole  social  system  toward  a  larger  and  more 
closely  articulated  human  life.  The  profound  changes 
which  are  involved  for  religion  may  be  indicated  in 

379 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

reference  to  the  development  of  the  various  denomi- 
nations of  Christianity  and  the  tendencies  now  oper- 
ating to  transcend  these  historic  formations  and  to 
produce  a  new  alignment  of  religious  bodies. 

A  psychological  interpretation  of  the  different 
Christian  sects  requires  that  they  be  regarded  as 
social  organisms  whose  life  history  is  much  fuller  and 
richer  than  can  be  measured  by  their  intellectual 
doctrines.  In  fact  such  doctrines  may  be  viewed  as 
phases  of  the  whole  development.  They  are  products 
and  results  of  social  movements,  as  well  as  means  of 
control  and  guidance.  Each  denomination  represents 
a  type  of  personality,  a  social  stratification,  which  is 
determined  in  its  original  pattern  by  the  economic 
forces  and  the  personal  leadership  which  fashioned 
it.  Afterwards  it  aggregates  like-minded  people  to 
itself  and  stamps  its  members  with  its  own  marks. 
All  protestant  bodies  have  common  characteristics, 
within  which  there  are  differentiations  and  lesser 
organic  growths  of  great  variety.  The  main  features 
of  the  leading  sects  are  easily  detected  in  comparison 
with  each  other,  but  the  subdivisions  often  rest  upon 
differences  and  involve  distinctions  scarcely  appreci- 
able to  any  but  those  of  their  own  number. 

Protestantism  itself  represents  the  disintegration 
of  the  mediaeval  social  unity  and  the  assertion  of 
national  and  community,  as  well  as  personal,  individ- 
ualism. The  protestant  type  is  therefore  marked  by 
initiative,  aggression,  and  loyalty  to  personal  leaders. 
Its  parties  are  given  to  emphasis  upon  special  re- 
forms and  to  the  elaboration  of  single  principles,  or 
half-truths.  Its  name  describes  its  spirit  of  revolt  and 

380 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

dissent.  This  tendency  was  curiously  favored  by  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  Bible  was  put  forward 
as  the  authority  of  protestants.  It  was  the  invention 
of  printing  which  facilitated  its  circulation,  and  the 
fact  that  the  Bible  was  the  book  most  commonly 
printed  may  be  regarded  as  the  cause  almost  as  much 
as  the  result  of  its  authority.  *'It  became  at  once  a 
primer,  a  history,  and  a  law  book." 

The  Bible  was  well  adapted  to  serve  as  the  instru- 
ment of  the  protestant  spirit.  It  gave  the  semblance 
of  an  external  authority  which  the  long-accustomed 
subservience  of  the  human  mind  required.  It  was  a 
standard  having  age,  universality,  and  adaptability 
sufKcient  to  offset  the  corresponding  claims  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  ease  with  which  the  Bible 
yielded  itself,  by  means  of  its  rich,  figurative,  human 
contents,  to  the  purposes  of  different  national  tempera- 
ments and  widely  variant  classes  of  society  gave  a  cer- 
tain unity  to  protestant  sects  while  affording  free  play 
for  their  differences.  Each  party  found  that  the  Bible 
taught  the  doctrines  which  its  own  culture  and  needs 
demanded.  Each  selected  proof  texts  suitable  to  its 
purposes  and  usually  believed  its  own  subjective 
ideas  were  the  objective  and  literal  meaning  of  the 
sacred  book  itself.  In  spite  of  this  one-sided  doctrinal 
interpretation  of  the  theologians,  the  masses  of  the 
people  found  also  a  vivid,  appealing,  and  stimulating 
literature. 

The  Bible  was  thus  the  convenient  material  from 
w^hich  the  different  movements  supplied  their  filling, 
while  the  molds  into  which  this  material  was  shaped 
were  supplied  by  the  rising  genius  and  institutions  of 

381 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  different  nationalities,  cultures,  and  classes.  These 
controlling  forces  were  represented  by  great  person- 
alities who  embodied  and  expressed  the  will  of  the 
people.  Luther  was  the  incarnation  of  the  free  Teu- 
tonic spirit,  with  its  independence,  spontaneity,  and 
moral  earnestness.  The  people  for  whom  he  was 
spokesman  were  overburdened  by  papal  taxation  to 
aid  in  building  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  and  to  maintain 
there  an  extravagant  and  luxurious  court.  Luther's 
visit  to  Italy  prepared  him  to  realize  to  the  full  the 
immorality  of  the  sale  of  indulgences  in  his  own  pro- 
vince. This  vicious  development  of  the  practice  of 
meritorious  "works,"  aggravated  by  the  effrontery 
of  the  papal  agents  and  supported  by  the  supersti- 
tious credulity  of  his  countrymen,  produced  a  pro- 
found revulsion  in  Luther's  deep  moral  nature.  It 
found  expression  in  the  text,  "The  just  shall  live  by 
faith." 

Calvinism,  even  more  than  Lutheranism,  is  an 
expression  of  the  mental  traits  of  its  founder.  Calvin 
was  a  lawyer  and  a  man  of  books.  He  expounded  re- 
ligion in  terms  of  law  and  in  the  form  of  final  and  in- 
flexible authoritv.  The  Bible  is  a  law  book  containing 
a  complete  code  and  affording  direction  for  every 
phase  of  conduct.  The  elect  constitute  the  spiritual 
aristocracy.  The  individual  is  not  dependent  upon 
his  own  nature  or  effort,  but  is  part  of  a  chosen  com- 
pany, a  settled  order.  Participation  in  this  order  is  a 
gift  or  endowment.  In  this  way  Calvinism  comes  to 
the  aid  of  the  individual  to  relieve  him  of  the  authority 
and  oppression  exercised  by  the  Church  and  the  State. 


S82 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  SECTS 

In  this  sense  Calvinism  is  democratic.  Man  is  in  his 
higher  nature  related  to  a  nobler  authority  —  that  of 
the  infinite,  eternal  God,  between  whom  and  the  soul 
of  man  no  human  agency  should  interfere.  But  this 
view  allowed  small  place  to  man's  initiative  and  in- 
dividual volition.  This  character  of  Calvinism  is  in- 
dicated by  the  classes  to  whom  it  appealed.  It  won 
those  in  whom  there  was  a  strong  sense  of  solidarity, 
such  as  the  clannish  Scotch  and  the  English  artisan 
classes  with  their  guilds  and  corporate  interests.  In 
such  groups  the  individual  had  a  sense  of  dependence 
and  yet  of  superior  strength  and  merit  through  the 
power  of  the  body  to  which  he  belonged.  He  received 
much  which  he  did  not  earn  and  his  acts  in  turn 
reached  farther  than  himself.  Calvinism  gave  men 
that  sense  of  security  in  spiritual  relationships  which 
they  already  experienced  in  earthly  affairs  through 
their  family  and  guild.  With  this  feeling  of  special 
privilege  as  elect  members  of  the  divine  kingdom, 
Calvinism  developed  a  scorn  of  all  things  earthly, 
human,  and  papal.  The  Puritans,  especially,  displayed 
this  contempt  for  the  natural  man  and  for  mere  hu- 
man authority  of  king  and  pope.  They  devoted  them- 
selves to  an  austere  and  strenuous  conception  of  duty 
with  the  utmost  conscientiousness  in  opposition  to 
the  worldliness  and  sensual  indulgence  of  the  time. 
They  despised  the  life  of  nature,  whether  this  meant 
sensual  indulgence  or  thoughtful  regard  for  the  welfare 
of  the  body.  Their  self-restraint  and  cleanliness  pre- 
served the  Puritans  from  the  plagues  which  carried 
off  the  improvident  and  indulgent  classes;  but  their 


383 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

neglect  of  the  physical  comforts  and  their  overwork 
and  exposure  brought  their  own  disease.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  Puritans  died  of  consumption !  ^ 

The  Puritans  contended  for  a  more  pronounced 
protestantism  than  was  congenial  to  the  Anglican 
Church.  That  church  never  shared  fully  in  the  the- 
ology of  the  reformation.  It  remained  true  for  the 
most  part  to  the  old  type.  The  Anglican  divines  never 
favored  rigid  Calvinism,  but  "tended  more  and  more 
to  blunt  the  sharpness  of  doctrinal  statements  on  this 
subject."  Indeed,  it  was  the  insistent  contention  of 
the  Puritans  that  the  Anglican  Church  remained  es- 
sentially Catholic,  keeping  as  it  did  the  old  ceremonial, 
the  vestments,  and  the  general  attitude  and  spirit  of 
the  sensuous,  liturgical  form  of  religion.  Such  a  reli- 
gion was  suited  to  the  court  circle,  to  the  aristocratic 
and  esthetic  type  of  mind.  It  was  fitted  to  a  ruling 
and  a  leisure  class,  possessing  freedom  and  disposition 
for  the  pleasures  which  wealth  and  station  afford. 
This  class  experienced  the  consciousness  of  long  es- 
tablished privilege  and  of  a  security  as  firm  as  the 
state  itself.  It  therefore  naturally  found  satisfaction 
in  a  religion  which  embodied  the  proprieties  of  long 
usage  in  stately  ceremonials,  sufficiently  objective  to 
carry  the  mind  out  of  itself  through  sensuous  symbol- 
ism, and  involving  no  novel  or  strenuous  duties  in 
opposition  to  the  tastes  and  enjoyments  of  the  natural 
man. 

The  Wesleyan  movement  was  primarily  a  religious 
devek)pment  among  the  masses  which   emphasized 
freedom  of  individual  action  and  the  possibility  of 
^  Simon  Patten,  Development  of  English  Thought,  p.  140. 

384 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

immediate  experience  in  every  soul  of  the  greatest 
spiritual  realities.  Reaction  against  both  the  formal- 
ism of  the  established  church  and  the  predestinarian- 
ism  of  Calvinism  was  characteristic  of  Methodism. 
Those  who  accepted  it  prove  what  it  was.  They  also 
helped  to  fix  the  type.  A  new  industrial  class  had  de- 
veloped in  England,  the  laborers  employed  in  factories 
and  in  other  new  and  unaccustomed  occupations. 
The  routine  and  drudgery  were  exhausting,  particu- 
larly to  those  classes  previously  devoted  to  less  exact- 
ing pursuits.  Puritanism  had  suppressed  the  popular 
amusements  and  had  made  Sunday  a  quiet  and  diffi- 
cult day.  Methodism  offered  a  means  of  self-expres- 
sion, of  emotional  excitement  and  of  stirring  demon- 
stration through  a  free  and  unrestrained  religious 
service.  The  great  religious  revivals  furnished  genuine 
and  valuable  recreation  of  more  than  passing  moment. 
They  attached  great  importance  to  outward  mani- 
festations of  feeling.  Change  of  heart  showed  itself  in 
a  demonstrative  conversion  and  in  visible  signs.  The 
newly  awakened  mental  state  and  the  intense  emotion 
were  the  inner  evidences  of  genuine  religion,  but  these 
expressed  themselves  in  powerful  and  quite  involun- 
tary motor  reactions.  Such  phenomena,  partly  be- 
cause they  were  so  largely  involuntary,  were  "signs 
of  grace"  as  the  familiar  "works"  could  not  be. 
Good  deeds,  such  as  participation  in  formal  worship, 
acts  of  penance,  alms  or  pilgrimages,  which  were  the 
familiar  and  conventionally  accepted  evidences  of 
salvation,  were  as  nothing  for  the  Methodists,  com- 
pared to  the  direct  and  unpremeditated  expressions  of 
emotion.  These  experiences  were  most  easily  obtained 

385 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

in  the  crowd,  and  Wesley  "shrewdly  utilized  social 
customs  for  religious  ends  by  encouraging  large  gath- 
erings. In  the  place  of  fairs,  May  days,  and  other 
sensual  events,  he  introduced  religious  organizations, 
which  gave  the  same  activity  and  satisfied  the  natural 
cravings  for  society.  Wakes,  revivals,  and  love  feasts 
broke  up  the  monotony  of  family  life  and  made 
outside  interests  once  more  supreme."  ^  In  all  this, 
Methodism  presented  the  emotional  experience  as 
something  within  the  range  of  all  persons  and  in 
comparison  w^ith  which  all  other  attainments  were 
insignificant.  Learning,  creeds,  and  doctrines;  social 
station,  wealth,  and  achievement,  counted  for  nothing 
against  this  immediate  sense  and  evidence  of  the 
presence  of  God.  Here  was  found  a  new  social  bond. 
All  who  possessed  this  experience  understood  each 
other  and  felt  themselves  the  fortunate  members  of  a 
mystic  company. 

When  these  great  social  organisms,  the  religious 
denominations,  pass  beyond  their  experimental  stages, 
they  develop  a  structure  and  a  momentum  which 
enable  them  to  persist.  They  continue  to  assimilate 
people  of  their  class  and  type,  spreading  over  all  social 
areas  where  there  is  favorable  soil.  In  their  later  de- 
velopment, less  is  said  with  reference  to  particular 
doctrines  which  were  originally  distinctive,  and  pro- 
gress is  continued  through  social  influence,  family 
ties,  prestige,  and  the  inertia  characteristic  of  older 
growths.  Emphasis  upon  doctrine  is  more  marked  in 
new  cults  or  in  those  whose  place  is  still  in  doubt. 
The  proselytes  to  such  bodies  are  likely  to  be  most 

^  Simon  Patten,  Development  of  English  Thought,  p.  258. 

386 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

interested  in  the  creed  and  in  general  to  be  more  con- 
scious of  the  forms  and  customs,  whereas  those  who 
have  grown  up  in  a  faith  are  held  to  it  by  less  con- 
scious and  by  deeper  ties.  They  experience  the  pro- 
founder  human  qualities  in  the  living  associations  of 
kinsmen  and  comrades,  in  comparison  with  which  the 
doctrinal  statements  and  theoretical  implications  are 
relatively  formal  and  superfluous.  The  creed  is  for 
them  no  longer  a  matter  for  justification  and  discus- 
sion but  a  symbol  of  social  realities  and  ideals.  It  is 
something  to  be  employed  in  a  ritual,  a  comforting 
and  elevating  form  of  words  to  be  read  or  intoned 
with  feeling  and  devotion  rather  than  a  set  of  proposi- 
tions submitted  to  critical  analj^sis  or  rational  affirma- 
tion. The  casual  observer  of  religious  services  fre- 
quently fails  to  realize  this  fact.  He  may  think  that 
people  do  or  should  take  their  creeds  and  hjanns  very 
literally  and  discriminatingly,  whereas  they  oftener 
employ  them  quite  naturally  as  ready  and  familiar 
svmbols  of  ideal  values.  Even  the  sermon  is  usually 
more  significant  in  its  general  tone  and  earnestness 
than  in  its  information  and  logic,  if  the  latter  are 
present  at  all! 

The  development  of  the  various  denominations  in 
America  affords  interesting  illustration  of  the  persist- 
ence of  these  social  organisms  and  of  their  limitation 
to  the  nationalities  and  classes  to  which  they  are  by 
nature  adapted.  Calvinism  is  represented  by  the 
Congregationalists,  the  descendants  of  the  English 
Puritans  who  were  strong  in  New  England;  by  the 
Presbyterians,  w^ho  are  Scotch  and  Irish,  and  are  most 
numerous  in  Pennsylvania  and  New  York ;  and  by  the 

387 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Baptists,  widely  scattered  through  the  States,  and 
representing  the  popular  extension  of  Congregation- 
alism. The  Episcopalians  are  also  mainly  English, 
and  are  most  numerous  in  New  York,  where  is  found 
one  fourth  of  their  total  number.  Methodism  may 
be  considered  as  a  form  of  Episcopalianism  well 
adapted  to  reach  the  masses  of  people.  Like  the  Bap- 
tists, the  Methodists  are  strong  throughout  the  coun- 
try. Both  denominations  found  in  America  much 
vaster  numbers  of  people  of  their  class  and  type  than 
in  England.  Of  the  Lutherans  in  this  country,  one 
half  are  Germans  and  one  quarter  are  Scandinavians. 
The  Catholics,  like  the  others,  remain  much  the  same 
in  their  spirit  and  temper,  and,  through  their  attrac- 
tion for  the  masses,  are  everywhere  numerous. 

The  fact  that  different  denominations  tend  to 
operate  among  populations  according  to  social  classes 
is  interestingly  illustrated  by  a  recent  investigation 
of  a  certain  American  community  in  New  York 
State.  ^  In  the  first  period  of  its  history  the  whole 
community  was  pervaded  by  simple  rural  conditions. 
Religion  in  all  the  churches  was  very  little  a  matter 
of  doctrine  and  almost  wholly  of  the  nature  of  cus- 
tom and  superstition.  The  emphasis  fell  on  Sabbath 
observance  and  austere  self-denial.  This  self-denial 
meant  abstinence  from  the  popular  amusements,  card- 
playing,  theatre-going,  dancing,  and  conviviality. 
That  Sabbath  observance  was  prompted  by  simple 
primitive  attitudes  toward  nature  is  seen  in  the  fact 
that  in  unfavorable  seasons  there  was  an  increase  of 
religious  fear.  It  was  felt  that  they  were  the  judg- 
^  J.  M.  Williams,  An  American  Town. 
388 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

ments  of  an  angry  God.  Sunday  was  the  day  when  the 
people  attempted  to  win  the  favor  of  God  by  abstain- 
ing from  work.  A  record  was  found  stating  that  the 
minister  was  once  expHcitly  urged  to  "  be  more  earnest 
at  the  throne  of  grace  that  the  seasons  be  ordered 
in  mercy."  Self-denial  in  gifts  of  money  was  prac- 
ticed in  the  same  spirit.  One  man  said  that  his  reason 
for  increasing  his  contributions  to  the  church  was  that 
in  the  past  every  time  he  had  increased  his  gifts  "the 
Lord  had  prospered  him."  In  this  earlier  period  there 
were  no  sharp  differences  noticeable  between  the  va- 
rious denominations.  All  of  the  people  were  dependent 
quite  directly  on  the  soil,  and  there  was  little  oppor- 
tunity for  the  play  of  social  distinctions  or  for  in- 
dulgence in  amusements.  About  1874  the  economic 
conditions  of  the  community  were  radically  changed, 
owing  largely  to  marked  development  in  the  hop  in- 
dustry. In  the  periods  of  its  greatest  prosperity  sig- 
nificant changes  took  place.  There  was  considerable 
migration  from  the  surrounding  rural  districts  into 
the  town,  the  comforts  and  pleasures  of  more  expen- 
sive modes  of  life  developed,  better  houses  and  stores 
were  built,  travel  increased,  and  the  patronage  of 
summer  resorts  grew.  In  general,  amusements  of 
"receptive  sensation"  increased.  These  included  card 
games,  music,  theatres,  conviviality,  and  horse-racing. 
In  the  churches,  after  the  new  economic  conditions 
began,  revivals  became  ineffective,  none  arousing  any 
excitement  after  1879.  With  prosperity  there  was  a 
marked  increase  in  church  expenditures.  They  paid 
more  for  music,  for  ministers,  and  for  missions.  But 
a  process  of  selection  was  operating  among  the  dif- 

380 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ferent  denominations.  *'Just  as  the  rural  districts 
selected  the  austere  characters  and  the  village  the  con- 
vivial, so  the  Baptist  and  Methodist  churches,  the 
membership  of  which  has  been  more  largely  from  the 
rural  districts,  have  selected  the  austere  from  among 
the  entire  population,  village  and  rural,  while  the 
Presbyterian  and  Episcopal  churches,  the  member- 
ship of  which  has  been  more  largely  from  the  village, 
have  selected  the  convivial  characters.  Since  1893, 
the  Methodists  have  become  convivial,  and  have  se- 
lected the  convivial  characters  of  the  lower  classes  of 
the  village  population."  The  change  in  the  character 
of  religion  in  the  second  period  is  indicated  in  the  dif- 
ferent type  of  minister  demanded.  "The  minister  of 
the  early  days  must,  in  his  personal  appearance,  walk, 
and  conversation,  as  we  have  seen,  be  a  perfect  ex- 
ample of  self-denial.  The  successful  minister  of  the 
later  period  was  the  handsome,  well-dressed,  sociable 
man  who  had  traveled  extensively,  read  widely,  and 
could  be  entertaining  at  all  times,  in  sermons  as  well 
as  in  social  functions." 

The  subdivisions  of  these  main  forms  of  Protestant 
Christianity  have  become  numerous  under  the  influ- 
ences of  pioneer  conditions  which  have  developed 
local  characteristics  and  afforded  many  new  move- 
ments. More  sporadic  and  unique  cults  have  also 
arisen  quite  independently  of  any  old-world  prece- 
dents. Among  these  are  the  Mormons,  Adventists, 
Spiritualists,  and  Christian  Scientists.  Particular 
motives,  special  doctrines,  and  controlling  individuals 
furnish  abundant  material  for  a  psychological  ac- 
count of  their  history.    Christian  Science  represents 

390 


THE   PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

the  latest  and  in  many  ways  most  significant  of  these 
contemporaneous  religious  cults.  The  healing  art  is 
its  chief  feature.  The  class  to  whom  it  appeals  is 
largely  of  the  well-to-do  city  dwellers  who  have  a  com- 
petence or  salary  sufficient  to  bring  them  within  the 
taxing  stimuli  of  the  artificial  community  life.  These 
people  are  accustomed  to  seek  their  own  comfort,  and 
yet  at  the  same  time  are  often  the  victims  of  the 
imaginary  or  real  ills  which  those  removed  from 
simpler,  sterner  tasks  and  homelier  circumstances  are 
apt  to  experience.  Nervous  diseases  are  common 
among  them,  and  these  may  often  be  cured  by  sugges- 
tion. Mrs.  Eddy's  belief  in  her  own  recovery  from 
sickness  by  mental  healing  proved  to  be  a  belief  in 
which  many  others  could  participate  for  themselves. 
Her  belief  expressed  itself  in  a  strange  mixture  of 
Biblical  texts  and  pseudo-philosophical  optimism  and 
voluntarism  suited  to  uncritical  minds  worried  by 
pain,  languor,  and  other  unpleasant  forms  of  self -con- 
sciousness. It  appeals  also  to  the  mystical  and  super- 
stitious elements  of  the  traditional  religion,  using  the 
Bible  in  a  quite  allegorical  manner  while  professing  to 
be  thoroughly  scientific.  That  it  is,  however,  lacking 
in  the  scientific  temper  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  it  has  no 
attractions  for  genuinely  scientific  men.  An  impor- 
tant part  of  its  capital  may  be  said  to  consist  in  the 
popular  distrust  of  scientific  medicine.  Christian 
Science  has  also  been  fortunate  in  several  features 
which  give  it  prestige  among  the  classes  indicated. 
It  has  exalted  the  feminine  factor  in  the  conception 
of  the  "Mother-God,"  and  in  having  an  attractive 
woman  "reader"   equally  prominent  with  the  male 

391 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

reader  in  the  conduct  of  the  public  service.  This  in- 
troduces in  an  unobtrusive  and  effective  manner  the 
powerful  sex  influence.  It  has  been  shrewdly  organ- 
ized and  administered.  It  has  provided  elaborate 
buildings  and  keeps  up  all  appearances  of  the  pros- 
perity and  outward  success  so  attractive  in  a  com- 
mercial age.  That  this  movement  appeals  to  those 
disposed  to  seek  and  to  pay  for  their  own  comfort  is 
evident  in  the  fact  that  its  organizations  participate 
in  no  charities  or  philanthropies,  and  thus  far  have 
cooperated  little,  if  any,  in  the  wide-spread  efforts  on 
behalf  of  better  social  conditions,  such  as  legislation 
for  the  protection  and  elevation  of  dependent,  edu- 
cable  classes.  Both  in  its  clannish  spirit  and  in  its 
non-rational  attitudes  it  is  still  at  the  level  of  the  older 
religious  sects  which  are  fundamentally  controlled  by 
relatively  unconscious  economic  and  social  conditions, 
operating  by  the  controlling  force  of  custom,  imita- 
tion, and  prestige. 

But  just  on  this  account  Christian  Science  reveals, 
in  a  striking  manner,  the  nature  of  religious  brother- 
hoods in  their  historic  development.  They  arise  as 
results  of  complex  and  more  or  less  profound  social 
influences,  and  have  their  nucleus  in  a  few  strong  per- 
sonalities who  become  the  organizing  and  radiating 
centres.  Claim  of  some  objective,  external  authority 
is  made  —  the  Bible,  direct  revelations  bv  visions  or 
voices,  or  the  sense  of  the  authority  of  the  body  of 
believers  itself.  At  last  it  is  the  claim  of  custom  or 
tradition  or  the  exigency  of  some  pressing  necessity. 
For  Lutheranism  the  immediate  pressure  was  the  sale 
of  indulgences;  for  Calvinism  it  was  the  compulsion 

392 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

of  the  papal  system ;  for  Puritanism  it  was  the  plagues 
and  the  license  of  the  time;  for  Wesley anism  it  was 
the  craving  for  motor  expressions  and  the  cry  of  the 
masses  for  an  assurance  of  salvation  within  their  com- 
prehension; for  Christian  Science  it  is  the  desire  for 
personal  comfort  in  a  tense  and  nervous  age.  In  their 
later  development  these  religious  sects  gain  a  sense  of 
individuality  and  a  pride  of  life  and  growth  which 
operate  with  the  force  of  primitive  custom  and  tribal 
conquest.  The  different  religious  bodies  are  in  effect 
so  many  social  clans.  Their  loyalties,  antipathies, 
and  methods  are  based  upon  race  and  class  inherit- 
ances and  prejudices,  merged  with  the  fine  idealism 
of  the  central  Christian  faith.  Under  the  influences  of 
modern  life  these  clans  feel  drawn  or  driven  together 
for  mutual  defense,  but  they  are  suspicious  and  awk- 
ward in  actual  attempts  at  union.  While  theoretically 
admitting  that  the  things  in  which  they  agree  are 
more  numerous  and  more  vital  than  those  in  which 
they  differ,  yet  they  continue  under  the  influence  of 
deep-seated  instincts  and  habits  to  magnify  inci- 
dental differences.  They  are  under  the  control  of  the 
ancient  biological,  primitive,  clan  impulse  to  preserve 
the  identity  and  integrity  of  the  organism.  The  desire 
of  the  Young  People's  Societies  of  Christian  Endeavor 
to  become  an  interdenominational  organization  was 
met  by  the  preference  of  the  most  numerous  denomi- 
nations to  have  their  own  separate  institutions  for 
their  young  people.  While  the  young,  freer,  and 
broader  minds  of  all  denominations  favor  such  coali- 
tions, the  clan  spirit  remains  strong  in  the  ofiicial 
representatives  of  missionary  agencies,  and  among 

393 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF   RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

those   who   have   become   most   identified   with   the 
practical  administration  of  institutional  interests. 

The  conflict,  however,  which  is  coming  to  conscious- 
ness in  modern  society  is  no  longer  that  between  clan 
and  clan,  or  between  the  clan  and  complete  social 
detachment,  but  rather  a  conflict  between  the  lesser 
and  the  larger  social  whole.   Devotion  to  institutions, 
to  powerful  social  structures,  is  a  necessity.    But  this 
devotion  inverts  the  scale  of  values  when  it   puts 
provincialism  above  nationalism,  or  local  sectarian 
loyalties  above  the  common  welfare.    In  religion,  as 
in  the  state,  no  single  virtue  or  theory  can  be  ade- 
quate to  the  needs  of  the  whole  many-sided  social  life. 
*'Much  energy  has  been  wasted  or  nearly  wasted, " 
remarks  Professor  Cooley,  "in  the  exclusive  and  in- 
tolerant advocacy  of  special  schemes  —  single  tax, 
prohibition,  state  sociaHsm  and  the  like  —  each  of 
which  was  imagined  by  its  adherents  to  be  the  key 
to  millennial  conditions.   Every  year,  however,  makes 
converts  to  the  truth  that  no  isolated  scheme  can  be 
a  good  scheme,  and  that  real  progress  must  be  an 
advance  all   along  the  line."    The  same  is  true  in 
religion.   The  religious  group,  like  the  family,  cannot 
fulfill  its  largest  function  by  being  self-centered  and 
exclusive.   It  is  possible  that  all  family  and  group  at- 
tachments should  lead  outward  into  comprehensive 
and  expansive  relationships.     When  this  is  accom- 
plished the  tension  between  them,  for  example,  be- 
tween the  family  and  the  state,  is  overcome,  and  gives 
way   to   the  finest,   widest-reaching  patriotism   and 
social  idealism.   The  modern  spirit  may  be  said  to 
be  contrasted  with  the  traditional,  tribal  character 

394 


THE   PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS   SECTS 

chiefly  in  these  two  respects:  in  the  vastness  and 
symmetry  of  its  ideal  of  human  society  and  in  the 
conscious,  critical  methods  of  experimentation  and 
practical  endeavor  by  which  it  strives  to  make  this 
ideal  actual.  The  various  denominations  possess 
genuine  social  consciousness.  That  is  their  strength. 
But  that  consciousness  is  too  much  restricted  both  in 
outlook  and  in  methods.  What  is  now  demanded  by 
the  spirit  of  the  age  is  that  they  shall  overcome  their 
partial  and  limited  historical  functions  and  participate 
more  fully  and  with  scientific  awareness  and  eflSciency 
in  the  highest  ideals  for  the  whole  race. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   RELIGIOUS   CONSCIOUSNESS   IN   RELATION   TO 
DEMOCRACY   AND    SCIENCE 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  cite  proof  that  the  two 
most  characteristic  features  of  the  aspiring  Hfe  of 
the  present  period  are  the  democratic  and  scientific 
tendencies.  Attention  is  more  and  more  centred  in 
them,  and  there  is  a  determination  to  make  them 
pervasive  and  controUing.  The  signs  of  the  growth 
of  democracy  are  greater  popular  interest  in  humaniz- 
ing the  ends  and  processes  of  government,  the  efforts 
to  enable  all  to  share  in  education  and  opportunity, 
the  breaking  down  of  class  distinctions  through  the 
recognition  of  their  historical  relativity,  and  the 
creation  of  the  facilities  for  interchange  of  experience 
and  ideals.  The  progress  of  science  is  evidenced  by 
increasing  invention,  by  the  control  of  disease,  by  the 
development  of  natural  resources,  and  by  the  better 
knowledge  of  the  human  mind,  of  the  conditions  of 
human  training  and  of  efficient  action.  Democracy 
and  science  are  thus  remaking  the  whole  social  order. 
Religion  does  not  escape  their  influence.  Like  govern- 
ment and  education,  religion  in  its  conventional  forms 
feels  itself  confronted  with  the  most  extreme  alterna- 
tives. It  must  undergo  reconstruction  or  perish.  The 
history  of  religion  shows  that  it  has  never  failed  to 
attain  reconstruction  where  the  general  social  life 
was  organized  and  commanding.   Whether  the  forces 

396 


DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE 

which  now  operate  in  the  newer  social  movements 
have  positive  religious  significance  can  be  fully  de- 
termined only  with  their  future  development,  but  the 
psychological  point  of  view  employed  in  the  preceding 
pages  suggests  that  the  rising,  expanding  life  of  the 
present  era  is  gradually  attaining  a  consciousness  of 
social  ideals  and  values  which  is  genuinely  religious. 

Democracy,   stated   in   psychological   terms,   is   a 
matter  of  mental   attitudes   and  habits.     It  means 
breadth  of  sympathy,  interaction  of  individuals,  and 
imaginative    cooperation    of    personal    wills.     These 
states  may,  perhaps,  be  most  easily  understood  in 
connection  with  the  concrete  experiences  in  which 
they  arise.   Wide-reaching  sympathy  and  the  sense  of 
a  vast  human  order  in  which  the  individual  is  an 
active,  organizing  factor,  as  well  as  a  recipient  of  great 
influences,  have  developed  along  with  modern  facili- 
ties for  communication.    The  telegraph,  the  printing 
press,  the  railroad,  and  the  postal  system  are  among 
the  structures  whose  rise  has  been  accompanied  by  a 
marvelous  growth  of  the  social  mind.    These  have 
expanded  human  nature  by  interchange  of  ideas,  by 
easy  contact  of  distant  groups,  and  by  affording  the 
organization  of  great  social  wholes.  ^    From  this  en- 
livening of  thought  by  novel  and  varied  stimulation 
arises   not   only    a    larger    intellectual   outlook    but 
a    quickening  of  feeling.     The  conditions   of    other 
classes  and  races  than  our  own  are  brought  vividly 
into  consciousness,  and  make  their  appeal  with  start- 
ling directness  and  familiarity.    Contact  with  people 
reveals  eventually  their  likeness  to  ourselves.    "Even 

^  C.  H.  Cooley,  Social  Organization,  chapter  viii. 

397 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  animosities  of  modern  nations  are  of  a  human  and 
imaginative  sort,  not  the  blind  animal  hostility  of  a 
more  primitive  age."  International  commerce,  travel, 
and  migration  have  led  to  such  constructive  feeling 
for  the  rights  and  welfare  of  all  concerned  that  war  is 
increasingly  viewed  as  a  horrible  crime  against  hu- 
manity, and  "the  newer  ideals  of  peace"  rest  upon 
mutual  acquaintance  through  common  needs.  It  was 
fine  insight  into  the  big  world  problems  presented  by 
the  contact  of  foreign  populations  in  her  own  city 
which  enabled  Miss  Jane  Addams  ^  to  see  amicable 
international  relations  attained  in  a  single  neighbor- 
hood by  the  same  experiences  which  are  also  creating 
such  relations  on  a  vaster  scale.  Sympathy,  respect, 
and  regard  for  common  purposes  spring  from  the 
same  tasks  and  difficulties,  and  this  law  holds  good 
for  the  world  as  well  as  for  a  given  city. 

The  industrial  development  also  contributes  to  the 
enlargement  of  human  brotherhood,  especially  among 
the  classes  which  have  been  regarded  as  participating 
least  in  that  brotherhood.  The  sense  of  common 
needs  and  of  the  value  of  concerted  action  have  pro- 
duced organization  and  mutual  loyalty  to  an  unex- 
pected degree.  By  these  agencies,  the  individual  feels 
the  power  of  his  whole  order.  He  learns  to  consider 
others  and  to  subordinate  mere  personal  interests  to 
a  larger  welfare.  This  movement  tends  to  fulfill  itself 
in  the  attainment  of  a  still  wider  outlook  upon  mutual 
interests  with  other  classes,  and  by  the  utilization  of 
industrial  education  and  various  other  means,  it  gives 
individuals  efficiency  and  appreciation  of  the  inclusive 

^  Newer  Ideals  of  Peace. 
398 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

total  life.  All  class  organizations  are  liable  to  formal- 
ism and  to  a  certain  blindness  to  fine  interests,  but  it 
may  be  possible  to  preserve  united  effort  while  pre- 
venting its  evils.  The  same  influences  which  result  in 
modern  class  consciousness  are  powerful  factors  in 
bringing  classes  into  harmony,  and  the  ultimate  issue 
of  the  process  should  be  recognition  of  the  inclusive 
social  order.  Classes  are  not  in  themselves  necessa- 
rily undemocratic.  Where  they  are  not  based  upon 
artificial  or  extraneous  conditions,  they  are  capable 
of  contributing  diversity  without  endangering  social 
unity.  They  may  effect  specialization,  intensity  of 
interest,  and  high  stimulation  to  achievement,  and  yet 
preserve  sympathetic  understanding.  The  greater 
diffusion  of  education  and  the  shrinking  dimensions  of 
the  human  world  keep  classes  open  which  formerly 
were  closed  to  each  other.  All  types  of  association 
and  of  experience  give  larger  attention  to  the  human 
element  in  life.  Labor  has  more  regard  for  the  safety 
and  fullness  of  life.  Industrialism  is  compelled  to 
count  the  cost  in  terms  not  only  of  the  number  of  men 
but  in  the  quality  of  manhood.  Democracy  makes 
progress  in  so  far  as  it  proves  advantageous  to  human 
nature,  not  in  reference  to  extraneous  circumstances 
such  as  rank,  heredity,  and  wealth,  but  in  reference  to 
intelligence,  serviceability,  and  function  as  tested  by 
the  welfare  of  all  members  of  society. 

Modern  society  has  been  characterized  by  this  free- 
ing and  revaluation  of  human  nature  in  all  its  forms. 
Industry  and  commerce  have  awakened  and  given 
scope  to  the  man  who  possessed  no  hereditary  privi- 
leges; the  diffusion  of  knowledge  has  trained  his  mind; 

399 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF   RELIGIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

the  rise  of  free  states  has  given  him  the  task  and  op- 
portunity of  self-government;  and  a  humanitarian 
idealism  thus  generated  and  actualized  has  begun  to 
take  possession  of  his  will.  This  idealism  radiates  with 
growing  consciousness  and  definiteness.  At  its  best  it 
seeks  to  put  into  the  hands  of  all  members  of  society 
the  instruments  of  a  free  and  full  life,  and  it  recognizes 
that  partially  developed  or  suppressed  personalities 
are  not  only  abnormal  in  themselves,  but  weaken  and 
depress  the  entire  social  organism.  It  has  been  dis- 
covered that  slavery  is  not  only  injurious  to  slaves  but 
to  their  masters.  The  extension  of  the  ideal  involved 
in  this  insight  is  being  felt  in  reference  to  many  other 
groups.  The  education  of  woman  and  her  incorpora- 
tion into  the  intellectual  practical  life  of  the  race  are 
justified  both  by  her  own  growth  under  such  condi- 
tions and  by  her  contributions  to  an  ideal  society. 
This  motive  expresses  itself  in  various  *' reform" 
movements  dealing  with  temperance,  child  labor, 
prison  reform,  social  hygiene,  juvenile  crime,  poverty, 
foreign  immigration,  peace  movements,  race  problems, 
congestion  of  population  in  cities,  administration  of 
charity,  and  many  other  causes  of  ill-conditioned  hu- 
manity. Such  reforms  are  not  merely  sentimental, 
abstractly  altruistic  efforts,  but  are  grounded  upon  the 
conviction  that  the  persons  affected  deserve  better 
things  from  society  and  that  society  deserves  from 
them  more  than  they  are  able  to  render  under  present 
conditions.  There  is  doubtless  much  confused,  im- 
pulsive "social  service,"  and  the  evils  of  particular 
groups,  for  example,  the  "slums"  or  the  "fast  set," 
are  at  times  grotesquely  exaggerated  and  undiscrim- 

400 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

inatingly  denounced.  Perhaps  the  growth  of  the  spirit 
of  democracy  is  best  represented  by  those  who  reaHze 
that  most  of  the  crime  and  misfortune  of  society  are 
not  due  to  conscious,  mahcious  intent,  but  to  habits 
and  environment  which  can  be  corrected  only  by 
modifying  the  conditions  which  He  beneath  them. 
Philanthropists  now  devote  their  energy  more  to  the 
understanding  and  removal  of  conditioning  causes, 
maintaining  genuine  sympathy  and  generous  attitudes 
toward  the  individuals  involved.  Not  that  individual 
responsibility  is  thus  replaced  by  attention  to  exter- 
nal facts,  but  there  is  an  attempt  to  take  persons  in 
relation  to  their  concrete,  complex  experiences.  Only 
then  can  their  wills  be  stimulated  to  affirmative,  con- 
structive decisions  and  to  gradual  readjustment  and 
moral  control. 

This  progress  of  imaginative  insight  into  the  nature 
of  the  mental  life  of  various  classes  is  as  important  as 
the  extension  of  the  great  social  structures  of  the 
modern  world.  No  mechanical  unification  of  the  w^orld 
can  satisfy  the  ideals  of  democracy,  but  the  social 
mind,  like  the  individual  mind,  does  require  a  struc- 
ture. The  grow^th  of  this  structure  is  impressive  on  its 
own  account,  but  it  becomes  doubly  significant  when 
viewed  as  the  carrier  of  the  spirit  of  cooperation  and 
mutual  interdependence  for  the  whole  world  of 
human  beings. 

In  contrast  to  the  small  social  groups  which  char- 
acterize the  lower  stages  of  human  development,  the 
vast  cooperative  communities  of  civilization  indicate 
a  structural  development  w^hich  requires  for  its  coun- 
terpart an  equally  sensitive  and  reliable  social  con- 

401 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

sciousness.  This  emerging  conception  of  a  compre- 
hensive human  order,  a  world  society,  in  which  all 
nations  and  races  cooperate  for  essential  human  ends, 
is  not  now  merely  the  possession  of  a  few  imaginative 
minds.  For  many  centuries,  individuals  here  and 
there  have  possessed  the  vision  of  such  an  ideal,  but  it 
is  now  clear  to  multitudes  and  is  consciously  chosen 
by  them  as  a  controlling  goal  of  endeavor.  Nor  is  this 
stupendous  yet  fine-textured  democracy  conceived 
simply  in  a  naive,  Utopian  manner,  as  something  be- 
longing to  a  distant  day  and  place,  but  as  a  concrete, 
natural,  voluntary  development,  effective  both  locally 
and  universally  with  as  much  reality  as  the  postal 
system  which  operates  from  one's  door  to  everj^  in- 
habited spot  on  the  entire  earth.  One  author  cites 
the  fact  that  the  progress  of  the  race  is  reflected  in  a 
constantly  enlarging  social  sympathy,  represented  by 
ever  widening  circles  woven  thick  with  interlacing 
lines  of  mutual  interest.  He  shows  that  whereas  the 
average  social  group  of  lower  savagery  numbers  only 
40  persons,  and  the  lower  barbarians  6500,  yet  the 
lower  civilized  races  form  unions  averaging  4,200,000 
with  cities  of  250,000,  while  the  lower  cultured  races 
effect  unions  of  population  numbering  30,000,000  with 
cities  of  6,000,000.  In  this  highest  stage  yet  reached, 
*' their  cities  present  incomparably  the  most  wonderful 
social  life  that  the  world  has  ever  witnessed.  London 
with  nearly  6,000,000,  Paris  and  New  York  with 
2,500,000  each,  their  orderly  populations  living  in  a 
harmony  from  which  internal  warfare  is  utterly  ab- 
sent; all  working  into  each  other's  hands;  all  fed, 
clothed,    educated,    amused,    and    provided    with    a 

402 


DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE 

thousand  comforts  and  conveniences  by  the  easy  play 
of  cooperative  forces ;  these  are  as  yet  the  triumphs  of 
social  sympathies.  In  these  races  of  the  lower  culture 
no  less  than  30,000,000  people  dwell  in  cities  of  over 
250,000  each,  there  being  fifty-three  such  cities  which 
average  623,000  inhabitants  apiece.  The  centuries 
that  are  coming  are  sure  to  witness  associations  to 
which  these  will  seem  but  small  concerns,  for  still  the 
empires  grow,  and  still  do  the  instincts  of  people  lead 
them  to  mass  themselves  in  ever  larger  cities,  thereby 
to  reap  in  the  fullest  measure  all  those  advantages  of 
social  sympathy  which  arise  when  man  dwells  beside 
man  to  comfort  and  be  comforted." ^  It  is  only  neces- 
sary to  reflect  similarly  on  the  growing  organization 
of  international  relations  to  complete  the  impression 
of  the  developing  structural  unity  of  mankind. 

That  the  outward  form  and  the  inner  spirit  of  de- 
mocracy have  direct  religious  significance  may  be 
seen  in  the  widely  felt  need  of  reorganizing  religious 
institutions,  both  in  their  spirit  and  methods,  to  con- 
form to  and  express  this  democratic  temper.  The 
critics  of  the  church  —  and  it  is  significant  that  these 
are  often  members  of  it  —  insist  that  it  has  in  large 
part  become  identified  with  certain  classes,  that  it 
draws  its  financial  support  and  its  view  of  life  from 
the  rich  and  from  the  scholastic  circles.  As  a  conse- 
quence, it  is  said,  the  church  has  little  hold  upon  the 
industrial  classes  and  other  groups  of  plain  people.  It 
continues  to  maintain  ideas  of  God  drawn  from  patri- 
archal and  monarchical  types  of  life.   Consequently 

1  Sutherland,  The  Origin  and  Growth  of  the  Moral  Instinct,  vol.  i,  p. 
365. 

403 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

it  interprets  spiritual  relations  in  terms  of  princely 
favors  which  are  bestowed  upon  men  through  grace 
and  as  free  gifts.  But  the  laborer  and  the  voter  have 
come  to  prefer  to  think  of  themselves  as  earning  what 
they  get.  They  are  even  more  anxious  to  receive  what 
they  believe  they  deserve  than  to  gain  favors  through 
charitable  benevolence,  even  if  it  be  represented  as 
divine.* 

The  church  also  appears  to  be  controlled  by  an 
individualistic  type  of  religious  experience.  It  sets  up 
a  task  and  a  salvation  for  the  individual  which  attach 
too  great  importance  to  personal  will  and  sentiment. 
But  people  find  themselves  in  social  conditions  which 
they  are  unable,  single-handed,  to  overcome.  They 
feel  the  need  of  alliances  able  to  cope  with  the  whole 
intricate  system  to  which  they  belong.  Their  sins  are 
no  longer  their  own  alone,  and  they  have  not  learned 
the  means  of  corporate  repentance.  The  evil  things 
are  not  so  much  personal  habits,  but  belong  to  methods 
of  business,  to  wage  systems,  to  tenement  methods 
of  housing.  These  are  matters  of  the  collective  body.^ 
To  change  them,  concerted,  intelligent,  patriotic  ac- 
tion is  necessary.  For  this  the  church  has  not  yet  the 
habits  or  the  expert  knowledge.  The  general  idea  of 
the  evil  and  of  the  remedy  is  clearer  than  the  means 
for  its  application.  Programs  of  reform  are  numerous, 
and  occasional  experiments  appear,  but  it  is  a  large 
task  for  which  there  really  are  no  precedents  in  history 
or  in  other  contemporaneous  institutions. 

^  J.  H.  Tufts,  "The  Adjustment  of  the  Church  to  the  Psycholoeical 
Conditions  of  the  Present,"  American  Journal  of  Theology,  vol.  xii,  1908. 
*  E  A.  Ross,  Sin  and  Society,  pp.  122  f. 

404 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

These  criticisms  of  existing  institutions  are  cited 
as  evidence  that  democracy  feels  itself  to  be  religious, 
and  makes  a  claim  for  recognition  in  the  organizations 
and  methods  of  religion.  The  frequent  condemnation 
of  the  church  for  lethargy  and  blindness  with  respect 
to  existing  conditions  and  opportunities  would  not  be 
so  vital  if  it  were  not  clear  proof  that  these  concerns 
are  felt  to  be  the  central  interests  of  religion.  Since 
the  church  assumes  to  represent  and  interpret  reli- 
gion, the  democratic  spirit  demands  to  know  how  she 
can  be  so  unresponsive  to  these  vast  human  aspira- 
tions. The  inner  identity  of  democratic  and  religious 
interests  is  witnessed  by  the  confessions  and  endeavors 
of  an  increasing  number  of  leaders  in  the  church.  The 
literature  produced  by  her  scholars  and  ministers  in 
the  last  decade  centres  in  these  social  ideals. ^ 

The  scientific  temper  of  the  age  is  not  so  easily  seen 
to  contribute  to  the  religious  consciousness  as  is  de- 
mocracy. Many  reasons  may  be  given  in  explanation 
of  this  fact.  The  scientific  attitude  is  a  newer  achieve- 
ment of  the  human  mind.  By  its  nature  it  is  yet  the 
possession  of  fewer  persons.  It  requires  a  training 
and  general  standpoint  which  have  not  been  accessible 
to  the  masses  of  men  until  recently.   Science  does  not 

^  A  few  of  the  books  of  this  character  are:  Francis  G.  Peabody, 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  Social  Question ;  Shailer  Mathews,  Social  Teachings 
of  Jesus;  also  The  Church  and  the  Changing  Social  Order;  Walter  Rausch- 
enbusch,  Christianity  and  the  Social  Crisis;  Washington  Gladden, 
Social  Salvation;  R.  J.  Campbell,  Christianity  and  the  Social  Order; 
cf.  A.  C.  McGiffert,  "Was  Jesus  or  Paul  the  Founder  of  Christian- 
ity?" American  Journal  of  Theology,  January,  1909;  "How  may 
Christianity  be  Defended  To-day?"  Hibbert  Journal,  October,  1908; 
Charles  Zeublin,  The  Religion  of  a  Democrat. 

405 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

lend  itself  to  popular  statement  so  readily  as  does 
democracy,  and  the  latter  gives  the  impression  of 
being  more  directly  important  for  the  masses  of  peo- 
ple. Democratic  ideas  seem  to  express  immediately 
the  grievances  and  the  hopes  of  the  plain  man,  while 
science  confronts  him  with  a  technique  of  concepts 
and  methods  which  require  effort  and  persistent 
thought.  A  fact  of  great  significance  is  that  the  ideal 
of  democratic  freedom,  equality,  and  greater  partici- 
pation in  goods  does  not  at  first  sight  involve  any 
radical  break  with  accustomed  modes  of  thought.  It 
appears  as  only  the  natural  demand  of  all  classes  for  a 
share  in  what  has  previously  been  the  lot  of  a  few. 
The  representatives  of  the  conventional  religion  feel 
that  they  are  here  aiding  in  the  full  development  of 
the  impulses  and  tendencies  which  are  really  intrinsic 
and  central  in  their  faith,  but  whose  fulfillment  the 
circumstances  of  the  historical  development  have 
prevented.  They  are  able  to  reinforce  the  present 
awakening  of  the  social  conscience  by  many  words  of 
their  ancient  teachers  and  by  many  examples  of  their 
saints  and  reformers.  The  abstract  idea  of  a  spiritual 
brotherhood,  of  an  inclusive  fraternity,  is  old  and 
famiUar,  and  appears  like  a  long-cherished  faith  only 
now  attaining  realization. 

But  there  is  little  if  any  such  familiar  background 
for  the  appreciation  of  the  religious  significance  of 
science.  It  has  been  the  cause  of  grave  apprehension 
among  religionists.  It  has  dealt  largely  with  natural, 
material  phenomena.  The  method  it  employs  is  that 
of  fallible  reason,  and  its  results,  laboriously  attained, 
are  held  tentatively,  ever  subject  to  revision.    Men 

406 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

have  not  been  used  to  qualified  and  hesitant  authority. 
They  have  been  subject  to  absolute  commands,  to 
urgent  necessity,  which  offered  little  option.  Obedi- 
ence and  submission  to  the  dictation  of  the  past  and 
of  mysterious  power  have  been  the  prevalent  atti- 
tudes. In  religion,  especially,  the  interests  at  stake 
were  too  urgent  and  essential  to  be  submitted  to  man's 
choice  or  inquiry.  They  possessed  sanctions  and  de- 
manded assent  of  quite  a  different  type  from  those 
which  belong  to  science.  Science  further  has  seemed 
to  put  stress  upon  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  subor- 
dinating its  practical  and  useful  application  to  the 
discovery  and  systematization  of  facts  and  principles 
on  their  own  account.  Religion  in  its  normal  forms 
has  emphasized  in  contrast  great  historical,  practical 
ideals.  It  has  moved  in  the  sphere  of  urgent  purposes. 
Action,  drama,  tragedy,  have  been  its  expressions. 
Even  the  practice  of  mystical  contemplation  was 
chosen  for  its  saving  power.  The  correct  control  of 
vital  processes  was  its  aim. 

No  opposition  could  then  seem  greater  than  that 
between  the  intense,  hot  action  of  the  reforming, 
heaven-building  saint  or  the  passionate  mystic,  and 
the  dispassionate,  critical,  tread-mill  scientific  ob- 
server of  facts.  The  faith  of  the  forward-reaching 
religionist  and  the  knowledge  of  the  poised  scholar 
seem  to  belong  to  different  orders  of  experience,  and 
the  difference  has  often  been  accepted  as  radical  and 
uncompromising  by  both  sides.  Systems  of  psychology 
and  philosophy  have  been  developed  under  this  con- 
ception, and  in  support  of  it. 

But  in  spite  of  all  such  theories  of  its  friends  and 

407 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

foes  alike,  science  has  moved  quietly  and  steadily 
forward,  extending  its  minute,  detailed  description  of 
facts  and  organizing  these  under  hypotheses.  Here 
and  there  it  has  discovered  fruitful  application  of  its 
methods  to  the  most  vital  practical  concerns.  In- 
creasingly it  is  apparent  that  science  does  not  select 
its  problems  arbitrarily,  but  finds  them  in  the  tasks 
incident  to  the  production  of  food,  the  invention  of 
devices  for  transportation  and  communication,  the 
control  of  disease,  and  in  the  determination  and  direc- 
tion of  the  central  human  interests.  It  is  true  many 
discoveries  of  science  have  been  quite  accidental,  but 
in  the  main  lines  of  its  development  it  is  more  and 
more  consciously  set  for  the  solution  of  questions  of 
tremendous  human  significance.  The  success  of  wire- 
less telegraphy  and  aerial  navigation  have  not  been 
accidental.  They  resulted  from  long  and  patient  ob- 
servation and  experimentation.  The  history  of  med- 
icine affords  even  more  striking  illustration  of  the 
solution  of  most  vital  practical  problems  by  the  use  of 
scientific  methods.  Experts  definitely  set  out  to  find 
the  bacteria  which  produce  malaria  and  other  fevers, 
tuberculosis,  sleeping  sickness,  syphilis,  and  other 
dread  diseases.  Having  found  these,  they  went  on 
to  secure  preventives  and  cures.  It  has  come  to  be 
the  confident  expectation  of  scientists  that  infectious 
diseases  may  be  entirely  robbed  of  their  power  if 
society  will  unite  in  the  support  of  the  undertaking.^ 
Even  those  branches  of  science  which  have  not  always 
been  able  to  give  obvious  and  significant  demonstra- 
tion of  their  utility  have  come  to  share  in  the  practical 
^  E.  Ray  Lankester,  The  Kingdom  of  Man,  p.  36. 

408 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

results.  "The  zoologist  thus  comes  into  closer  touch 
than  ever  with  the  profession  of  medicine,  and  the 
time  has  arrived  when  the  professional  students  of 
disease  fully  admit  that  they  must  bring  to  their  great 
and  hopeful  task  of  abolishing  the  diseases  of  man  the 
fullest  aid  from  every  branch  of  biological  science. 
I  need  not  say  how  great  is  the  contentment  of  those 
who  have  long  worked  at  apparently  useless  branches 
of  science  —  such  as  are  the  careful  and  elaborate 
distinction  of  every  separate  kind  of  animal  and  the 
life-history  and  structure  peculiar  to  each  —  in  the 
belief  that  all  knowledge  is  good,  to  find  that  the  sci- 
ence they  have  cultivated  has  become  suddenly  and 
urgently  of  the  highest  practical  value." ^ 

The  application  of  scientific  methods  to  the  investi- 
gation and  correction  of  crime,  pauperism,  and  juve- 
nile delinquency  brings  science  into  even  more  imme- 
diate relation  to  ideal  spiritual  interests.  Psychology 
and  education  here  take  their  place  among  the  great 
agencies  for  the  development  of  human  life;  while  the 
new  science  of  eugenics  sets  for  itself  the  task  of  con- 
trolling the  production  of  men  by  heredity  and  train- 
ing. In  the  social  sciences,  knowledge  appears  less  and 
less  abstract  and  remote.  It  is  here  under  the  leader- 
ship of  great  social  ideals,  and  in  the  most  intimate 
relation  to  the  progress  and  fulfillment  of  the  hopes  of 
democracy. 

The  scientific  development  of  machinery  has  trans- 
formed the  world  of  labor  and  of  transportation.    In 
agriculture  and  horticulture  it  has  gone  far  in  the  re- 
covery of  waste  lands  by  engineering,  by  chemical 
'  E.  Ray  Lankester,  The  Kingdom  of  Man,  p.  147. 

409 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

treatment  of  soils,  and  by  selection  and  culture  of 
grains  and  fruits.  The  results  are  already  sufficient 
to  subvert  the  older  doctrines  of  Malthus  with  reference 
to  the  fixed  limit  of  the  population  which  the  earth 
can  maintain.  On  every  side  the  confidence  of  man 
in  the  control  of  natural  forces  for  his  own  welfare  has 
been  placed  upon  more  intelligible  and  appreciable 
grounds  than  ever  in  its  history.  This  has  given  to 
science  a  practical  aspect  even  in  the  eyes  of  those 
who  do  not  understand  its  methods.  The  masses 
of  laboring  men  are  constantly  in  the  presence  of 
machines,  and  work  under  the  control  of  elaborate 
engineering  plans,  enabling  them  to  construct  with 
precision  and  facility  the  greatest  public  and  private 
utilities.  They  are  called  upon  to  direct  the  forces  of 
steam,  compressed  air,  electricity,  and  gas,  and  their 
minds  are  influenced  by  the  training  of  their  hands  in 
these  occupations.  The  farmer  and  the  stock  breeder 
are  also  brought  under  greater  necessity  to  employ 
the  knowledge  and  skill  of  the  expert.  They  see  that 
such  expert  wisdom  is  profitable,  and  that  it  is  indis- 
pensable in  keeping  up  with  competition  and  in  gaining 
the  largest  possible  returns  from  their  labor.  It  is  in 
these  immediate  and  marvelously  efficient  operations 
of  science  that  the  rank  and  file  see  its  power  and 
value.  The  physician,  the  machinist,  the  sales  agent, 
with  the  illustrated  periodical  and  the  trade  journal, 
bring  the  keen  edge  of  the  new  knowledge  home  to  the 
spot  where  it  is  able  to  enter  the  consciousness  of  the 
average  man. 

The  mental  traits  which  are  created  by  science  in 
its  inner  circles,  and  to  some  appreciable  degree  wher- 

410 


DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE 

ever  its  effects  are  felt,  are  of  a  clearly  defined  charac- 
ter. The  scientific  mind  respects  facts  and  is  wary  of 
fancies  and  guesses.  It  seeks  actual  experience.  It 
works  under  a  closely  articulated  procedure,  with  an 
organized  technique.  Complex  phenomena  are  ana- 
lyzed into  simpler  elements  and  systematized  under 
tested  principles  and  formulae.  Openness  of  mind, 
readiness  to  verify  conclusions  and  to  adopt  qualify- 
ing factors  are  notable.  The  frequent  reorganization 
of  accumulated  material  under  new  points  of  view, 
such  as  that  introduced  into  many  fields  by  modern 
biology,  has  contributed  powerfully  to  an  expectant, 
inquiring,  adapting  attitude.  New  angles  of  observa- 
tion and  persistent  experimentation  are  ever  bringing 
up  familiar  and  long-established  theories  for  reexami- 
nation. Therefore  one  of  the  most  impressive  charac- 
teristics of  the  mental  type  which  science  creates  is 
its  search  for  novelty  in  what  is  old.  At  the  same  time 
it  maintains  a  sensitive  and  delicate  regard  for  the  re- 
sults which  have  been  reached  by  previous  conscien- 
tious investigation.  The  restatements  of  science  are 
usually  revolutionary  only  with  reference  to  prescien- 
tific  attitudes,  as  where  chemistry  supersedes  alchemy 
or  astronomy  supplants  astrology.  But  within  the 
scientific  period  of  a  given  area  of  knowledge,  change 
is  of  the  nature  of  enlargement,  of  new  perspective  and 
additional  material  and  methods.  The  sense  of  con- 
tinuity is  strong,  and  the  acknowledgment  of  previous 
achievements  is  frank  and  generous.  This  kind  of 
docility  and  reverence  are  united  with  courage  and 
initiative.  What  has  been  achieved  is  felt  to  be  but  a 
stage  in  an  ever-unfolding  process.   The  doubt  \a  hich 

411 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

is  engendered  is  not  merely  negative  or  destructive, 
but  is  essentially  positive  in  its  ultimate  reference  and 
function.  The  new  is  expected  to  relate  itself  to  the 
old,  and  to  aid  in  establishing  a  broader  organization 
of  experience. 

This  confidence  in  its  method,  in  the  necessity  of 
constant  analysis  and  experimentation,  and  in  the 
possibility  of  bringing  most  mysterious,  variant  phe- 
nomena under  laws  and  to  this  extent  explaining 
them,  is  the  factor  which  at  first  makes  science  appear 
to  be  lacking  in  religious  quality.  In  several  other 
respects  the  virtues  of  the  scientific  mind  seem  inher- 
ently religious  in  the  familiar  sense.  For  example, 
science  requires  patience,  diligence,  accuracy,  honesty, 
self-control,  self-forgetfulness,  willingness  to  take 
risks  and  to  endure.  But  in  this  devotion  to  inquiry, 
to  doubt,  to  reconstruction,  to  experimentation,  in 
this  unw^illingness  to  be  quiescent  under  mystery  or 
authority,  in  this,  the  scientific  mind  seems  funda- 
mentally opposed  to  the  prevalent,  conventional  reli- 
gious mind.  Dissent  from  the  external  authority  of 
custom  or  precedent  is  insubordination  which  the 
accepted  religious  type  cannot  tolerate.  Permanent 
compromise  or  evasion  is  impossible  here.  Science 
recognizes  only  the  authority  of  experience.  Its  prin- 
ciples must  be  intelligible  and  its  results  verifiable. 
It  cannot  remain  true  to  itself  and  surrender  the  right 
to  question,  to  doubt,  to  reinvestigate  any  problem. 
Any  assent  to  the  occurrence  of  events  in  essentially 
mysterious  and  unknow^able  ways  is  impossible.  Be- 
lief in  miracles  as  contraventions  of  law  —  the  only 
meaning  of  miracles  which  has  ever  occasioned  any 

412 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

significant  discussion  —  is  therefore  diametrically  op- 
posed to  the  mind  of  science.  Less  bluntly,  it  may 
be  said  that  such  a  belief  lies  entirely  beyond  the 
sphere  of  science,  or  that  it  is  psychologically  incom- 
patible with  scientific  mental  habits. 

Probably  the  difficulty  is  exaggerated  by  an  unfor- 
tunate partiality  in  the  terminology  employed.  Sci- 
ence has  arrogated  to  itself  the  claim  of  knowledge, 
taking  the  term  as  meaning  an  exclusively  intellectual, 
emotionless  affair;  while  religion  has  magnified  faith, 
giving  it  the  significance  of  an  emotional,  volitional 
state  of  a  unique  type.  Faith  has  thus  come  to  be 
regarded  as  the  test  of  religion,  as  knowledge  is  the 
organ  and  the  sphere  of  science.  Religion  as  faith  then 
involves  submission  to  authority,  and  its  test  is  some- 
times represented  as  the  willingness  to  accept  that 
which  is  intellectually  inconsistent  in  itself,  but  which 
is  presented  as  the  dictate  of  conscience  or  of  the 
Divine  Being.  Knowledge,  at  the  other  extreme,  has 
been  held  to  possess  absolute  certainty  and  final  truth. 
In  such  a  view,  it  is  obvious  that  no  reconciliation  of 
faith  and  knowledge  is  possible.  But  psychology  does 
not  support  such  a  dualism  of  experience.  When  both 
terms  are  related  to  action,  to  purposive  will,  they 
become  reconciled  in  a  vital  way.  Then  knowledge 
appears  as  instrumental,  provisional,  and  practical; 
while  faith  becomes  the  attitude  of  confidence  and 
expectation  in  reference  to  the  further  progress  of 
experience.  Knowledge,  in  actual,  vital  operation,  is 
accompanied  by  the  glow  of  interest  in  the  concrete 
process  and  outcome  which  is  faith;  and  faith,  in  its 
hope  and  trust,  relies  upon  knowledge  and  tested 

413 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

experience.  Faith,  unrelated  to  such  knowledge  and 
experience,  becomes  wholly  sentimental  and  fatuous. 
Experimentation  involves  both  faith  and  knowledge. 
It  could  not  exist  if  either  were  absent.  And  successful 
experiment  increases  both. 

That  the  scientific  temper  is  rapidly  establishing 
itself  in  the  modern  consciousness,  there  can  be  no 
doubt.  With  its  growth  superstition,  belief  in  mir- 
acles, subjection  to  the  authority  of  custom  and  tradi- 
tion are  disappearing.  Is  religion  also  being  destroyed 
in  this  revolution?  Or  is  the  new  social  order,  marked 
as  it  undoubtedly  is  by  the  rise  of  democracy  and 
science,  creating  values  and  ideals  which  are  genuinely 
religious.'* 

Here  the  view  that  the  religious  consciousness  is 
identical  with  the  core  of  the  social  consciousness  — 
with  the  inner  soul  of  conscience,  of  duty,  of  patriot- 
ism, of  social  righteousness  —  affords  valuable  aid. 
Religion  becomes  as  natural  and  vital  in  a  democratic 
and  scientific  age  as  in  a  patriarchal,  custom-ruled 
era.  The  same  will -to-live,  to  lay  hold  upon  life-giving 
powers,  which  in  primitive  groups  fashions  ceremo- 
nials, with  their  dramatic  action,  myth,  magic,  and 
emotion,  may  operate  also  in  modern  life  through  the 
sense  of  a  far  vaster  social  whole.  Why  should  not 
the  latter  also  produce  pageants,  festivals,  poetry, 
and  music,  uttering  and  elevating  its  ideal  life  in  pow- 
erful forms  of  art?  The  ideals  of  welfare  have  become 
more  explicit,  and  the  means  for  their  attainment  are 
better  discriminated,  but  they  are  no  less  urgent. 
Indeed  the  consciousness  of  the  values  involved  in 
the  new  social  conceptions  seems  incalculably  greater, 

414 


DEMOCRACY  AND   SCIENCE 

both  extensively  and  intensively,  than  that  of  earlier 
stages  of  development. 

Democracy  and  science  thus  come  into  harmonious 
cooperation  and  mutual  support  by  something  more 
than  the  accidents  of  history.  Democracy  emphasizes 
personal  responsibility,  eliciting  initiative  and  reflec- 
tion in  all  its  members.  All  are  confronted  with  the 
tensions  and  conflicts  which  under  other  forms  of 
society  are  borne  by  the  few.  It  is  under  such  conflict 
and  individual  obligations  that  careful,  systematic 
observation  and  constructive  thinking,  or  scientific 
knowledge,  arise.  In  the  submission  of  all  fundamen- 
tal issues  to  a  popular  vote,  every  citizen  is  summoned 
to  share  in  the  policies  and  functions  of  the  state.  To 
do  this  effectively  he  is  required  to  inform  himself  and 
to  act  in  the  light  of  his  judgment.  It  is  of  course 
just  this  process  which  makes  real  democracy  so  diffi- 
cult to  achieve.  It  is  a  slow  and  vast  undertaking  to 
get  all  voters  to  act  intelligently.  There  is  constant 
temptation  to  make  programs  for  them,  to  influence 
them  by  "bosses,"  and  to  treat  them  patronizingly. 
Democracy  can  therefore  only  become  real  and  opera- 
tive through  a  universal  and  efficient  system  of  public 
education.  This  means  in  the  end  the  diffusion  of  the 
scientific  spirit,  of  its  method  and  results.  Democracy 
thus  leads  naturally  and  inevitably  to  science. 

On  the  other  hand,  science  is  in  its  spirit  and  func- 
tion democratic.  It  employs  impersonal  methods, 
and  its  results  stand  on  their  own  intrinsic  merits.  In 
the  end  it  is,  however,  a  human  interest,  a  function  of 
the  mind.  It  cannot  be  indifferent  to  the  instrument 
upon  which  it  depends.    The  mind,  viewed  biologi- 

415 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

cally,  is  a  means  of  adaptation,  an  organ  of  adjust- 
ment, a  servant  of  its  possessor.  In  its  higher  pro- 
cesses, it  requires  relative  detachment  for  its  greatest 
efficiency,  but  the  final  test  of  what  it  achieves  in 
comparative  isolation  is  found  in  the  advantage  such 
achievements  afford  to  the  concrete,  practical  life  of 
the  whole  human  organism,  individual  and  collective. 
Intellectual  activity  which  does  not  finally  complete 
the  circuit  and  advance  conduct  and  fullness  of  living 
is  condemned  as  useless  and  injurious.  Here  the  popu- 
lar mind  and  the  spirit  of  the  specialist  may  seem  to 
be  widely  separated,  but  the  populace  are  impatient 
and  hasty  in  their  demand  for  the  fruits  of  science. 
The  scholars,  knowing  the  necessity  of  quiet,  undis- 
tracted  inquiry,  often  seem  to  resent  entirely  the 
natural  and  ultimately  irrepressible  insistence  that 
knowledge  shall  bake  bread.  A  survey  of  the  last 
fifty  years  of  scientific  advancement  affords  sufficient 
proof  that  in  the  main  the  carefully  established  know- 
ledge of  the  various  branches  of  science  has  genuine 
human  value,  and  that  it  contributes  in  appreciable 
ways  to  the  comfort,  efficiency,  and  richness  of  a 
democratic  social  humanity. 

The  religious  significance  of  democracy  and  science 
becomes  apparent  as  they  are  more  thoroughly  estab- 
lished.^ Their  constructive  character  is  evident  when 
they  are  sufficiently  advanced  to  work  out  their  impli- 

^  It  may  be  said  that  these  two  tendencies  express  in  ideal  and 
powerful  forms  the  elemental,  primitive  life-interests,  —  democracy 
embodying  the  sympathetic,  socializing  quality  of  the  sexual  life,  and 
science  exemplifying  the  insight  and  mastery  worked  out  in  connection 
with  the  food  process.  In  the  new  social  order  there  is  increasing 
reciprocity  and  fusion,  as  well  as  idealization,  of  these  interests. 

416 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

cations  freely  and  with  less  opposition  from  conven- 
tional types  of  organization  and  intellectual  procedure. 
In  the  minds  of  many  leaders  of  social  reconstruction 
and  critical  idealism  the  religious  quality  of  the  new 
social  order  is  already  realized  and  expressed.  They 
recognize  that  the  old  creeds  and  symbols  are  now 
inadequate  and  disadvantageous,  but  they  also  have 
confidence  that  the  new  forces  will  create  doctrines 
and  symbols  for  themselves,  by  which  the  new  spiritual 
values  may  be  brought  home  to  the  heart  and  con- 
science of  the  times.  "There  will  be  creeds,  but  they 
will  affirm  no  more  than  is  really  helpful  to  believe, 
ritual,  but  only  what  is  beautiful  or  edifying;  every- 
thing must  justify  itself  by  function."  i 

A  notable  expression  of  the  difference  between  the 
new  and  the  old  cultures  is  stated  bj^  Professor  Dewey 
in  an  argument  for  the  omission  of  religious  instruc- 
tion from  the  public  schools  until  the  new  religion  of 
democracy  and  science  is  sufficiently  developed  to 
take  its  place  in  the  educational  system  naturally  and 
in  accordance  with  the  type  of  mind  which  the  schools 
normally  develop.  He  says:  "We  need  to  accept  the 
responsibilities  of  living  in  an  age  marked  by  the 
greatest  intellectual  readjustment  history  records. 
There  is  undoubted  loss  of  joy,  of  consolation,  of  some 
types  of  strength,  and  of  some  sources  of  inspiration 
in  the  change.  There  is  a  manifest  increase  of  uncer- 
tainty; there  is  some  paralj^sis  of  energy,  and  much 
excessive  application  of  energy  in  materialistic  direc- 
tions. Yet  nothing  is  gained  by  moves  which  will 
increase  confusion  and  obscurity,  w^hich  tend  to  an 

^  C.  H.  Cooley,  Social  Organization,  p.  418. 
417 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF   RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

emotional  hypocrisy  and  to  a  phrasemongering  of 
formulae  which  seem  to  mean  one  thing  and  really 
import  the  opposite.  Bearing  the  losses  and  incon- 
veniences of  our  time  as  best  we  may,  it  is  the  part  of 
men  to  labour  persistently  and  patiently  for  the  clari- 
fication and  development  of  the  positive  creed  of  life 
implicit  in  democracy  and  science,  and  to  work  for  the 
transformation  of  all  practical  instrumentalities  of 
education  till  they  are  in  harmony  with  these  ideas. 
Till  these  ends  are  further  along  than  we  can  honestly 
claim  them  to  be  at  present,  it  is  better  that  our 
schools  should  do  nothing  than  that  they  should  do 
wrong  things.  It  is  better  for  them  to  confine  them- 
selves to  their  obviously  urgent  tasks  than  that  they 
should,  under  the  name  of  spiritual  culture,  form 
habits  of  mind  which  are  at  war  with  the  habits  of 
mind  congruous  with  democracy  and  with  science."* 
Another  significant  indication  of  the  religious  im- 
plications of  modern  progress  is  the  attempt  to  re- 
write the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  in  terms  of  ethical 
and  social  idealism.^  This  courageous  effort  to  recon- 
struct the  familiar  ceremonials  and  sj^mbols  of  the 
Anglican  Church  is  undertaken  with  a  sense  of  the 
historical  tendencies  of  the  last  three  centuries  toward 
a  democratic  and  rational  order  of  societv  and  its 
religious  evaluation.  It  recognizes  the  propriety  of 
admitting  the  indigenous  and  contemporaneous  fac- 
tors of  our  civilization  into  a  share  in  the  religious 
consciousness,  and  draws  upon  the  poets  and  moralists 
of  the  modern  world  for  the  enrichment  of  the  litera- 

^  Hibhert  Journal,  "Religion  and  Our  Schools,"  vol.  vi,  1907-08. 
^  Stanton  Coit,  National  Idealism  and  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 

418 


DEMOCRACY  AND  SCIENCE 

ture  of  piety  and  devotion.  Such  attempts  to  give 
artistic,  imaginative  form  to  the  consciousness  of  the 
individual  in  relation  to  a  complete  whole  are  likely 
to  become  more  frequent.  They  will  furnish  addi- 
tional, illuminating  testimony  that  the  human  spirit 
has  gained  a  new  height  in  its  ascent,  and  has  become 
possessed  of  an  outlook  and  a  perspective  in  which 
there  is  intelligible  order  together  with  opportunity 
for  limitless  progress. 


INDEX 


Act.  practical  character  of  the  religious, 
110. 

Addarus,  Jane,  398. 

Adolescence,  Religion  and,  Ch.  XII; 
preeminently  the  period  for  the  rise 
of  religious  consciousness,  214 ;  con- 
version a  phenomenon  of,  215-216; 
confirmation  and  initiatory  rites  dur- 
ing, 217-218;  physiological  changes 
as  affording  an  explanation  of  the 
new  social  attitude  in,  218-219;  ap- 
pearance and  maturing  of  sexual  in- 
stinct the  central  factor  in,  219;  in- 
adequate expression  of  the  relation 
between  sex  and  religion  in.  220-221 ; 
religion  neither  a  perversion  of,  nor 
antagonistic  to,  sex,  221  ;  social  char- 
acter of  sex  instinct  makes  it  directly 
the  source  of  religion,  222 ;  illustra- 
tions of  new  social  interests  during 
this  period,  224-227 ;  technique  of 
sexual  life  employed  in  highly  devel- 
oped social  groups.  227-228 ;  awak- 
ening of  mental  life  along  with  sexual 
impulse,  229 ;  adolescent  idealism, 
230-233 ;  repression  of  religious  im- 
pulse through  conflict  of  social  inter- 
ests, 233-234;  summary  on,  235. 

Angell,  J.  R.,  19,  24,  306. 

Animism  and  Spiritism,  see  under 
Spirits. 

Anthropology  related  to  psychology, 
6-7. 

Atonement,  sacrifice  as,  136;  influence 
of  social  setting  on  Christian  doctrines 
of.  316. 

Australian  tribes,  various  religious  ob- 
servances of,  47-49,  55,  61,  85-87,  91, 
118,  121.  124,  142. 

Awe,  not  the  distinguishing  mark  of  re- 
ligion, 109-110. 


Baldwin.  J.  M.,  197,  346,  347. 
Barnes,  Earl,  230. 
Barton,  G.  A.,  174,  178. 
Brinton,  D.  G.,  49,  149. 
Budde,  K.,  177,  178,  182. 

Campbell,  R.  J.,  405. 

Ceremonials,  and  Magic,  Ch.  V;  as  re- 
flecting both  masculine  and  feiniuiue 
elements,  43-45 ;  masculine  control 
of,  44 ;  as  reflecting  activities  essen- 
tial to  tribal  welfare,  47-48 ;  hence 
varying  with  means  of  subsistence, 
49 ;  definition  of,  in  terms  of  custom, 
71 ;  importance  of,  for  priuiiiive  re- 
ligion, 71 ;  dramatic  character  of,  72  ; 
connected  with  nature  phenomena, 
73-74 ;  with  birth,  initiation,  and 
marriage,  74  ;  with  death  and  burial, 
74;  with  war  and  dealings  with 
strangers,  75 ;  relation  of,  to  magic 
and  spirits,  76 ;  views  of  Frazer, 
Lang,  and  Jevons  on  magic,  76-77 ; 
Smith's  discrimination  of  magic  from 
religion,  77-78  ;  definitions  and  illus- 
trations of  collective,  individual,  imi- 
tative, and  sympathetic  magic,  79-S7  ; 
names  as  possessing  magic,  87  ;  songs 
and  chants  as  means  of  imparting 
magic,  SB ;  magic  ceremonies  as 
means  of  overcoming  taboo  or  of  pro- 
ducing it,  88-91  ;  as  elaborate  sym- 
bolic forms  of  habitual  activities,  91 ; 
importance  of  emotional  excitement 
in  ceremonies,  93;  educational  value 
of,  94  ;  magic  power  imparted  through 
sacrifice,  127-130. 

Childhood,  Religion  and,  Ch.  XI ;  prob- 
lem of  rise  of  religion  in,  that  of  the 
rise  of  the  social  consciousness,  197; 
the  child  in  early  infancy  non-moral 


421 


INDEX 


and  non-social,  198 ;  in  early  cliild- 
hood  social  attitudes  but  slightly  de- 
veloped, 19S-203 ;  some  advance  in 
later  childhood,  203-206;  religion 
neither  an  instinct  nor  a  special  en- 
dowment, 20G-207  ;  solution  from  the 
functional  standpoint  of  some  theo- 
logical difficulties,  207 ;  meaning  of 
"  the  sinful  and  perverse  nature  of 
the  child, "  207;  of  "impartation  of 
grace  "  in  later  childhood,  20S  ;  criti- 
cism of  the  view  that  the  child  is  en- 
dowed with  a  religious  instinct,  209 ; 
beginnings  of  religious  life  in  crude 
cooperative  activities  often  anti-social 
from  the  adult  standpoint,  209-210; 
the  child  in  some  senses  an  alien  till 
late  in  the  adolescent  period,  210  ;  ex- 
ternality of  religion  to  the  child  as 
shown  by  records,  211-213. 

Coe.  G.  A.,  3,  4,  215,  216,  240,  243,  259, 
261,  272,  286. 

Coit,  Stanton,  418. 

Consciousness,  always  specific,  21 ;  as 
guide  of  action,  22 ;  the  religious,  a 
phase  of  group  consciousness,  49,  110. 

Conversion,  Ch.  XIV;  central  in  pro- 
testant  Christianity,  5  ;  as  a  sudden, 
intense,  and  extremely  emotional  ex- 
perience, 257  ;  difPerent  attitudes  of 
various  churches  towards,  257 ;  dis- 
satisfaction and  sense  of  sin  as  first 
stage  in  the  emotional  circuit  of,  258- 
260 ;  the  turning  point,  or  second  stage 
in,  260-263 ;  reaction,  sense  of  peace 
and  joy  as  third  stage  in,  263 ;  varia- 
tions in,  due  to  sex,  age,  and  tem- 
perament, 264-265  ;  as  induced  by  ex- 
ternal control,  266 ;  common  methods 
of  inducing,  266 ;  preliminary  work  in 
the  revival,  266-267 ;  the  characteristic 
revival  service,  268-269  ;  influence  of 
the  crowd,  269-270;  efforts  directed 
to  insignificant  effects,  271  ;  hypnotic 
phenomena  produced,  27.3 ;  defects  of 
the  conversion  method,  272-273  ;  sec- 
ondary results  as  hurtful,  274-276. 

Cooley,  C.  H.,  97,  139,  308,  .341,  342, 
343,  344,  357,  394,  397,  417. 

422 


Crawley,  Ernest,  54,  62,  64,  66,  73,  87, 
89,  91,  103,  120,  168,  192,  221. 

Cushing,  Frank  H.,  150,  156-157. 

Custom,  important  problems  concerning 
primitive,  7  ;  earliest  types  of  religion 
a  matter  of  social,  33. 

Custom  and  Taboo,  Ch.  IV ;  rigidity  of 
primitive  customs,  and  taboo  as  the 
negative  side  of,  51-52;  various  ex- 
planations of  the  origin  of  taboo,  53 ; 
non-rational  origin  of  custom  and  ta- 
boo, 54-56  ;  explanation  in  terms  of 
instinct,  imitation,  etc.,  57-.'>9 ;  how 
habitual  actions  get  their  sanction, 
59-61 ;  sanctity  of  customs  as  propor- 
tional to  their  degree  of  vital  interest 
for  the  group,  61-62;  psychological 
explanation  of  taboo,  62-63  ;  Craw- 
ley's limitation  because  of  over-em- 
phasis on  ideas,  63-64 ;  taboo  as  re- 
latCi  to  natural  social  divisions,  64 ; 
sex  taboos,  64-66 ;  taboos  of  kings, 
war  chiefs,  and  leaders,  66-67 ;  ta- 
boos of  the  dead,  67-68 ;  primary  de- 
terminations of  taboo  in  life-processes, 
68 ;  secondary  development  of  taboo 
to  associated  objects,  68-69;  differ- 
entiation of  taboo  into  holiness  and 
uncleanness,  69-70. 

Daramulun,  two  interpretations  of  the 
worship  of,  115. 

Davenport,  F.  M.,  165,  270,  272,  276. 

Dead,  the,  as  members  of  the  tribe, 
104. 

Death  and  burial,  importance  of  cere- 
monials of,  75. 

Democracy  and  Science,  the  relation 
of  religious  consciousness  to,  Ch. 
XXI ;  as  recasting  the  social  order, 
396  ;  meaning  of  democracy  stated  in 
psychological  terms,  897 ;  develop- 
ment of  democracy  through  invention 
and  travel,  397-398  ;  industrialism  as 
a  factor  in,  398 ;  ideals  of  democracy 
in  relation  to  slaves,  women,  crimi- 
nals, and  defectives.  400-401  ;  growth 
of  social  groups  and  its  significance, 
401-403 ;    religious    spirit  of  demo- 


INDEX 


cracy  as  shown  by  its  criticism  of  the 
church,  403-405 ;  democratic  ideals 
latent  in  the  conventional  religion, 
406 ;  religious  significance  of  science 
obscured  by  conflicting  methods  in 
science  and  religion,  400-407  ;  practi- 
cal tasks  with  which  science  deals, 
407 ;  intimate  relation  of  scientific 
method  to  the  great  social  ideals, 
40y ;  general  recognition  of  the  social 
value  of  science,  410 ;  mental  traits 
developed  by  the  study  of  science, 
410-412  ;  antagonism  between  science 
and  religion  partly  due  to  a  wrong 
conception  of  both  faith  and  know- 
ledge, 413 ;  naturalness  of  religion, 
when  properly  defined,  in  a  demo- 
cratic and  scientific  age,  414  ;  coop- 
eration of  democracy  and  science,  and 
religious  significance  of  both.  414- 
416  ;  contrast  of  old  and  new  culture, 
417-418;  tendency  to  create  new  re- 
ligious symbols,  418-419. 
Development  of  Religion,  Ch.  X ;  origin 
of  religion  determined  by  origin  of  the 
social  consciousness,  168 ;  first  stage 
of  primitive  Semitic  religion,  the  poly- 
dsemonism  of  the  desert,  171-172  ;  sec- 
ond, the  nomadic-shepherd  life,  with 
the  sheep  as  totem,  172-173 ;  third, 
migration  into  cattle  lands  and  the 
bull  as  symbol  of  Yahweh,  173-174 ; 
fourth,  conflict  between  pastoral  He- 
brews and  agricultural  Canaanites  de- 
velops group  consciousness  and  a  re- 
turn towards  nomadic  ideals,  175 ; 
priests,  prophets,  and  kings  unify  re- 
ligious and  national  consciousness,  and 
monarchy  gives  a  new  pattern  for 
Yahweh,  175-176;  change  in  customs 
and  ceremonials  and  elimination  of 
traces  of  Baal-worship,  176-177  ;  con- 
tinuation of  tension,  but  now  within 
the  nation,  178  ;  economic  reasons  for 
loyalty  to  the  simpler  type  of  religion 
and  the  moral  messages  of  Amos  and 
Hosea,  178-180  ;  Isaiah  as  advancing 
the  conception  of  Yahweh's  greatness, 
181 ;  adoption  of  Assyrian  and  Baby- 


lonian myths,  181-182  ;  further  puri- 
fication of  worship,  182;  Jeremiah  as 
completing  the  anthropomorphizing 
and  individualizing  tendency,  183 ; 
fifth  stage,  the  exile,  with  the  work 
of  Ezekiel  and  the  second  Isaiah,  the 
former  pointing  to  ceremonial  reforms, 
the  latter  giving  further  refinement 
to  idealizing  tendencies,  184-185 ; 
sixth  stage,  Christianity  purifying  and 
strengthening  earlier  ideals  of  a  di- 
vine kingdom  and  of  inward  ethical 
character,  185-187  ;  social  conception 
of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  181) ;  de- 
velopment under  new  conditions,  190; 
a  parallel  development  in  other  peo- 
ples through  certain  stages,  190-191 ; 
survivals  of  early  religious  customs 
such  as  the  Passover  in  the  Lord's 
Supper,  baptism  as  a  form  of  purga- 
tion and  the  use  of  the  name  in  prayer, 
191-192  ;  development  of  religion  in 
terms  of  modern  science  and  social 
progress,  193. 

Dewey,  John,  28,  40,  41,  98-99,  169, 
190,  326,  328,  336,  417. 

Dewey  and  Tufts,  191,  289,  337. 

Dorsey,  G.  A.,  151. 

Dunlap,  Knight,  293. 

Ellis,  Havelock,  364. 

Emotion,  rise  of,  20  ;  in  inverse  propor- 
tion to  ideation,  165-166 ;  importance 
of,  in  religious  ceremonies,  03.  See 
Feeling. 

Epistemology,  relation  to  psychology 
and  logic,  25. 

Ethics,  an  elaboration  of  psychology,  23. 

Faith,  296-300. 

Farnelh  L.  R.,  133,  147,  191. 

Feeling,  and  Religious  Experience,  Ch. 
XVII ;  relation  of,  to  volitional  activ- 
ities, 19,  20 ;  emphasis  on,  as  a  reac- 
tion against  intellectualism,  321 ;  views 
of  Starbuck  and  Pratt  on,  321-324; 
sympathetic  nervous  system  not  the 
unique  organ  of,  324 ;  inconsistency 
in   the   contrast   between  knowledge 


423 


INDEX 


and,  325 ;  failure  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  subconscious  and,  325  ;  not 
all  the  non-ideational  can  be  classed 
as,  32(1 ;  James- Lange  theory  of,  as 
related  to  the  whole  activity,  326-327  ; 
as  secondary  to  action,  327-328 ;  as  a 
sign  of  adjustment,  328 ;  danger  of 
giving  the  uppermost  place  to,  329 ; 
biological  depth  of  social,  329;  intel- 
lectual and  affective  elements  second- 
ary to  activity,  330 ;  emotion  in  the 
crowd,  331 ;  methods  of  arousing  fear, 
pity,  and  love,  331-333;  feeling  and 
readjustment  or  social  progress,  333- 
334;  abnormal  development  of  feeling, 
335  ;  the  highest  happiness,  336-337. 

Fishing  and  hunting,  ceremonies  con- 
nected with,  84. 

Fite,  Warner,  33. 

Fletcher,  Alice,  142. 

Food,  and  sex  as  central  interests,  33- 
36,  58 ;  importance  of,  in  sacrifice, 
116-124. 

Frazer,  J.  G.,  52,  53,  54,  61,  76,  78,  81, 
82,  83,  84,  85,  91,  92,  124,  149. 

Genetic  method,  why  used  by  functional 

psychology,  27. 
Giddings,  F.  H.,  364. 
God,  growth  and  objectification  of  the,  in 

triballife,  113. 
Granger,  F.,  265. 

Haddon,  A.  C,  104,  112,  126. 

Hall,  G.  Stanley,  210, 215,  218,  219,  220, 

225,  230,  231,  236,  255,  259,  332. 
Hapgood,  Hutchins,  3(34,  378. 
Harrison,  Jane,  159,  191. 
Harvest,  ceremonials  of,  73. 
Hebrews,     see    under   Development    of 

Religion. 
Hegel,  G.  W.  F.,  8, 12. 
Hiisch,  Wm.,  352. 
Hotlding,  Harold,  9. 
Holiness,  relation  of,  to  taboo,  69-70; 

sacriHcial  victim  the  source  of,  131. 
Howell,  W.  H.,  324. 
Howitt,  A.,  88,  121,  135,  156,  163. 
Hume,  David,  21. 


Ideas,  and  Religious  Experience,  Ch. 
XVI ;  general  revolt  against  over- 
emphasis on  intellectual  elements,  303; 
genetic  account  of  ideas,  18,  304-305 ; 
as  presupposing  impulses  and  involun- 
tary activities,  305 ;  dynamic  char- 
acter of,  18,  306 ;  relation  of  emotional 
consciousness  to,  307 ;  as  symbols  of 
motor  adjustments,  308 ;  correlative 
change  in  the  meaning  of  words  with 
variations  in  activities  signified,  309 ; 
interaction  of  impulses  and  ideas,  310 ; 
meaning  of  theological  ideas  must  be 
gathered  from  actual  use,  310;  idea 
of  God  as  changing  with  advancing 
civilization,  311-312  ;  function  of  idea 
of  God  in  conduct,  313-315  ;  influence 
of  social  setting  on  Christian  doc- 
trines of  the  atonement,  316;  ideas 
true  or  false  only  where  conduct  is 
involved,  317;  dynamic  character  of 
the  idea  of  God,  318 ;  criticism  of 
distinction  of  ideas  of  value  from  those 
of  fact,  318-319 ;  application  to  the 
question  of  theory  and  practice,  319- 
320. 

Ideation,  secondary  to  volition,  19. 

Initiation,  elaborate  ceremonials  for,  74 ; 
mimetic  and  sympathetic  magic  in, 
85-86. 

Instinct,  in  animals  and  man,  16,  17. 

Intichiuma  ceremonies,  118. 

James,  William,  9,  12,  13,  28,  96,  107, 
113,  116,  238,  256,  257,  262,  288,  289, 
292,  305,  315,  326. 

Jastrow,  Joseph,  246,  295. 

Jastrow,  Morris,  6,  7. 

Jevons,  F.  B.,  .53,  54,  56,  76,  77,  78,  87, 
119,  134,  l.-)0,  167. 

Judd,  C.  H.,  305. 

Kafirs,  origin  of  customs  not  known  to 
them,  54  ;  their  idea  of  spirit,  101-104. 

Kant,  I.,  8,  11. 

Kidd,  Dudley,  55,  56,  101, 103, 140, 141, 
211. 

King,  Irving,  50,  73,  110,  111,  207, 
219. 


424 


INDEX 


Lang,  A.,  76,  77,  115. 

Language,  primitive  forms  of,  and  tbeir 

use,    135;    as   relatively  unconscious 

social  habit,  lo7-139. 
Laukester,  E.  Ray,  408,  409. 
Lessing,  G.  E.,  111. 
Leuba,  J.  H.,  2'J8,  314. 
Locke,  John,  17. 
Logic,  as  a  differentiation  -within  psy- 

cliology,  24-25. 
Lovejoy,  Arthur  O.,  188. 

Magic,  see  Ceremonials. 

Man,  as  fighter  and  hunter,  38-40 ;  psy- 
chological significance  of  his  occupa- 
tion, 40-43 ;  as  source  of  authority, 
44  ;   attitude  toward  woman,  66. 

Marett,  R.  R.,  82,  88,  102, 106,  107, 108, 
10i»,  112,  115,  140,  143. 

Marriage,  safeguards  of,  75,  89-90. 

Mason,  Otis  T.,  35. 

Mathews,  tShailer,  405 

Mind,  as  instrument  of  adjustment,  15, 
17  ;  correlation  of  mental  and  bodily 
states,  18-19  ;  fundamental  function 
of  mental  life,  17;  mental  life  as 
process,  17-18. 

Mitchell,  H.  B.,  .375. 

Morality,  see  under  Religion  as  Involv- 
ing the  Entire  Psychical  Life. 

Morgan,  Lewis  H.,  34. 

Miller,  Max,  149. 

Myth,  Ch.  IX ;  diverse  theories  of,  and 
their  defects,  149-150;  as  equivalent 
to  cult-lore,  1.50  ;  distinguishing  char- 
acteristics of,  151  ;  relation  of,  to  the 
motor  activities  of  the  ritual,  152-154  ; 
topography,  plants,  animals  and  he- 
roes as  important  factors  in,  1.54-157  ; 
the  hero's  increasing  prominence  in, 
157-159;  as  speech  expression  of  the 
life-drama,  159-160;  more  variable 
than  ritual,  160 ;  as  dramatic  rather 
than  rational  and  scienfific,  161-162; 
limited  character  of  savage  concepts 
■which  appear  in,  162-164;  inverse 
relation  of  emotion  and  ideation  in, 
16.5-166;  common  basis  for  similarity 
In  those  of  different  peoples,  167. 


Nature    phenomena,    ceremonies    con« 

nected  with,  73-74. 
Names,  magical  quality  of,  87. 
Non-religious  persons,  see  Persons. 

Object,  emerges  when  attention  is  ar- 
rested, 100 ;  as  living  agents  in  active 
process,  100. 

Occupation,  difference  in  male  and  fe- 
male, 35 ;  significance  of,  for  building 
up  the  mental  life,  40-43. 

Palmer,  G.  H.,  287. 

Patten,  Simon,  384,  386. 

Peabody,  Francis  G.,  282,  405. 

Persons,  Non-religious,  Ch.  XIX  ;  com- 
mon belief  that  there  are  such  not 
beyond  question,  355 ;  not  found  in 
primitive  groups,  356 ;  the  criterion 
of,  failure  to  share  in  the  ideal  im- 
pulses of  the  social  consciousness,  356 ; 
such  participation  not  necessarily  di- 
rect or  clearly  conscious,  356-358  ;  the 
mentally  diseased  and  defective  as 
non-religious,  359-360 ;  those  lacking 
real  tasks  and  proper  training  as,  360- 
.361;  the  criminal  class  as,  362-305; 
changing  forms  of  social  conscious- 
ness and  transition  types  of  religious 
consciousness,  365-.367 ;  the  merely 
conventional  type,  367 ;  those  deeply 
religious  who  in  some  cases  are  not 
consciously  so,  368 ;  difficulties  on  ac- 
count of  outgrown  imagery  and  sym- 
bols, 369-.370 ;  illustrations  of  those 
who  consider  themselves  non-religious, 
370 ;  of  those  who  are  in  doubt  as  to 
a  proper  criterion,  371  ;  of  those  who 
judge  by  a  non-conventional  criterion, 
372-373  ;  of  identification  of  esthetic 
and  religious  consciousness,  373-374  ; 
typical  answer  showing  advance  to- 
ward a  new  constructive  faith,  374- 
375. 

Philosophical  Studies,  as  elaborations  of 
psychology,  2.3-26. 

Pratt,  J.  B.,  3,  9,  322,  323,  324,  325, 
334,  335. 

Prayer,  Ch.  VIII ;  place  of,  in  primitive 


425 


INDEX 


religion,  134 ;  study  of,  through  speech 
phenomena,  134-135  ;  primitive  forms 
of  language  often  used  without  refer- 
ence to  communication  with  others, 
135  ;  articulate  speech  not  necessarily 
directed  to  definitely  apprehended 
persons,  135-136 ;  language  as  rela- 
tively unconscious  social  hahit,  137- 
139 ;  prayer,  as  not  necessarily  involv- 
ing the  conception  of  a  spiritual  being, 
139 ;  as  incidental  accompaniment  of 
ceremonial,  139-140 ;  illustrations  of 
exclamatory  or  descriptive  type  of, 
140-141. 

Psychology  of  Religion ;  its  recent  ori- 
gin, 3  ;  demanded  by  general  scienti- 
fic advance,  3 ;  value  of,  for  general 
psychology,  3 ;  religious  motive  for, 
4-5 ;  as  supplementary  to  history  of 
religion,  anthropology,  and  philosophy 
of  religion,  5-11;  its  problems  re- 
flected in  definitions  of  religion,  10 ; 
general  aim  of,  13-14 ;  is  here  treated 
from  a  f uncrional  standpoint,  15  ;  from 
this  standpoint  mental  life  is  regarded 
as  a  means  of  adjustment.  15-17  ;  ac- 
tivities and  processes  directed  towards 
ends  are  emphasized,  17-18 ;  correla- 
tion of  bodily  aud  mental  states  ac- 
cepted, 18 ;  emphasis  placed  upon  will, 
19 ;  consciousness  is  regarded  as  always 
specific,  l!l-22 ;  and  philosophical  stud- 
ies as  elaborations  of  psychology, 
23-26 ;  psychology  of  religion  as  funda- 
mental to  theology,  26  ;  why  it  uses 
the  genetic  method,  27. 

Psychology  of  Religious  Genius  and  In- 
spirarion,  Ch.  XVIIl ;  inspiration  at- 
tributed to  all  exceptional  persons, 
33S ;  meaning  of  genius,  339 ;  its 
phenomena  subject  to  psychological 
investigation,  340 ;  Galton's  view  of 
racial  quality  as  the  predetermining 
factor  of,  341 ;  Cooley's  theory  of  en- 
vironment as  essential  to  the  develop- 
ment of,  341-343  ;  a  stronger  conclu- 
sion justified,  342 ;  functional  view 
puts  emphasis  on  creative  power  of 
social  environment,  344 ;  application 


of  these  principles  to  athletes  and  sci- 
entists, 345 ;  to  Hebrew  prophets,  346- 
347 ;  illustration  from  the  case  of 
Amos,  347-350  ;  the  prophet's  sense  of 
passive  recipiency,  350-352 ;  parallels 
from  modern  literary  geniuses,  352- 
353 ;  significance  of  the  message  not 
determined  by  its  accompanying  feel- 
ing, 354-355. 
Psycliology  of  Religious  Sects,  Ch.  XX; 
identity  of  religions  and  social  con- 
sciousness in  primitive  life,  377  ;  in- 
dividual in  higher  societies  a  member 
of  various  social  groups,  378 ;  may  be 
identified  with  a  remote  group  through 
imagination,  378-379 ;  difi^erent  sects 
as  social  organisms  with  marked  indi- 
■viduality,  380;  the  protestant  type 
and  its  use  of  the  Bible,  380-381; 
Lutheranism,  382 ;  Calvinism,  Pu- 
ritanism as  a  form  of,  382-384; 
Wesleyanism,  384-386 ;  decrease  in 
emphasis  on  doctrine  in  developed 
sects,  386-387 ;  development  of  prot- 
estant sects  in  America.  388-389 ;  illus- 
tration of  their  identification  with 
certain  social  classes,  389-390 ;  new 
cults  in  America.  390  ;  Christian  Sci- 
ence ;  typical  in  respect  to  individual- 
ity of  organization  and  spirit,  390-393 ; 
strength  of  sectarian  or  elan  spirit, 
393-395 ;  need  for  a  larger  social 
whole,  395. 

Rain,  magic  used  to  produce,  79,  81. 

Ratzel,  F.,  102,  105,  106. 

Religion,  as  involving  the  entire  psychi- 
cal life,  Ch.  XV  ;  tendency  of  special- 
ized social  interests  to  become  iso- 
lated. 279 ;  religion  as  a  phase  of  all 
socialized  human  experience,  280 ;  a 
natural  relation  of  interaction  between 
the  social  and  religious  consciousness. 
280 ;  religion  as  both  a  result  and  the 
occasion  of  social  reconstruction,  280- 
281 ;  need  of  further  reconstruction 
in  religion,  282-283  ;  conflict  between 
different  types  of  religion,  284 ;  nat- 
uralness of  religion  as  shown  by  analy- 


426 


INDEX 


sis  of  ideals,  2S5 ;  unreality  of  the 
distinction  between  the  religious  and 
the  moral,  2S5-2S6 ;  the  moral  ideal 
in  individual  religious  experience, 
287 ;  contrast  of  such  experience  with 
customary  doctrine,  2SS ;  difference  be- 
tween mediseval  and  modern  notions  of 
divine  service,  289  ;  social  conception 
of  religion  corrects  the  view  of  religion 
as  due  to  some  unique  instinct,  289— 
290  ;  mistake  of  attempting  to  explain 
religion  through  the  subconscious, 
290 ;  importance  of  the  subconscious 
for  psychology,  290-292 ;  extreme 
phenomena  of  the  subconscious  similar 
to  common  phenomena,  294  ;  no  valid 
support  for  the  subconscious  as  the 
peculiar  organ  of  religion,  294-295  ; 
faith  as  viewed  from  the  standpoint 
of  functional  psychology,  296  ;  differ- 
entiation of  religious,  from  other 
types  of  faith,  297 ;  solution  of  some 
problems  concerning  faith,  297-299 ; 
naturalness  of  prayer  from  the  func- 
tional standpoint,  300-301  ;  teleologi- 
cal  character  of  the  other  forms  of 
worship,  301-802. 
Religious  development,  normal  type  of, 
Ch.  XIII;  gradual  growth  including 
spontaneous  awakening  as,  236 ;  in- 
stances of  gradual  form,  237-240 ; in- 
stances of  sudden  awakening  within  a 
gradual  process,  241-244 ;  no  special 
psychological  significance  in  such 
awakening.  244-246 ;  growth  never 
absolutely  regular,  247 ;  psychology 
of  growth  as  implying  the  educational 
process.  249  ;  emphasis  on  conversion 
tends  to  hinder  this  process,  248  ;  fal- 
lacy of  abstracting  the  educational 
process  from  actual  religious  exjseri- 
ence,  248-249 ;  importance  of  perma- 
nent processes,  250;  principles  for 
religious  education  given  by  psychol- 
ogy of  religion  :  child  not  irreligious 
by  nature,  250 ;  education  must  be 
more  than  intellectual.  251 ;  activities 
and  interest  in  concrete  things  must 
be   employed,    252-253;  epochal  yet 

4 


continuous  development  of  child  mind 
must  be  recognized,  253-254  ;  educa- 
tion may  continue  beyond  adolescence, 

255. 


25 
Revivals,  see  under  Conversion. 
Ritsehl,  H.,  8. 
Rivers,  W.  H.,  48,  92,  93,  140,  141, 160, 

164. 
Rogers,  A.  K.,  319. 
Ross,  E.  A.,  193,  270,  276,  340,  404. 
Royse,  265. 

Sabatier,  A.,  8. 

Sacrifice,  Ch.  VII ;  meaning  of,  in 
terms  of  acts  involved,  116;  eating 
food  as  the  central  act  in,  117  ;  other 
features,  117;  supposed  benefits  of, 
117  ;  sacred  objects  themselves  at  first 
sacrifice,  118  ;  totems  originally  staple 
articles  of  food  and  totemic  ceremo- 
nies similar  to  sacrificial  feasts,  118; 
how  taboos  against  eating  the  totem 
arose,  119;  mysterious,  life-giving 
power  attributed  to  the  totem,  119- 
120 ;  social  nature  and  religious  value 
of  the  food  process,  121-122 ;  simplest 
form  of  sacrificial  feast  the  commen- 
sal meal,  122 ;  the  divinity  appropri- 
ated in,  122 ;  transmission  of  magic 
power  from  objects  sacrificed,  122- 
123 ;  other  forms  of  unification  through 
contact,  125-126;  sacrifice  for  immu- 
nity from  approaching  danger,  127; 
for  overcoming  taboo  already  in- 
curred, 128 ;  importance  of,  and  vari- 
ous means  used  in  the  second  type, 
12S-129;  impartation  of  sanctity 
through  sacrifice,  130 ;  the  god  of- 
fered to  his  followers,  131 ;  sacrifice 
as  atonement,  131  ;  only  violation  of 
taboo  required  atonement,  131  ;  puri- 
ficatory rites  sacrificial,  not  essentially 
hygienic,  132-133  ;  real  value  of  the 
sacrifice,  133. 

Schleiermacher,  F.  E.  D.,  8,  11. 

Sects,  see  Psychology  of  Religious 
Sects. 

Seed-time,  ceremonials  of,  73,  80. 

Self,  man  not  directly  conscious  of,  as 

27 


INDEX 


spiritual  agent,  95  ;  variety  of  selves, 
96  ;  fused  with  object,  97  ;  child  not 
a,  97. 
Sex,  food  and,  as  central  interests,  33- 
34  ;   division  of  labor  dependent  upon, 
35 ;  woman  as  social  centre,  and  its 
significance,   36-38;    man   as   fighter 
and  hunter,  38-40  ;  psychological  sig- 
nificance of  man's  occupation,  40-43 ; 
masculine  and   feminine  elements  in 
ceremonies,   43 ;    segregation    of  sex, 
64 ;  taboos  of  sex  determined  by  cus- 
tomary activities,  64-66. 
Sherrington,  C.  S.,  324. 
Skeat,  W.  W.,  60,  103,  105. 
Small  and  Vincent,  360. 
Smith,  H.  P.,  172,  174. 
Smith,    W.  Robertson,  48,  77,  78,  91, 
105,  117,  123,  126, 127,  130,  131,  149, 
311,347,351. 
Snake  Indians,  radical  development  of 

social  organization,  170-171. 
Social  bonds,  as  centering  about  woman, 

37-38. 
Social    consciousness,    see    under    Con- 
sciousness. 
Social  development,  as  dependent  upon 

economic  conditions,  170-171. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  12,  102,  149. 
Spencer  and  Gillen,  46,  47,  55,  61,  85, 
86,  118,  124,  142,  143,  155,  163-164, 
377. 
Spirits,  Ch.  VI ;  origin  of  idea  of,  usu- 
ally attributed  to  man's  conception  of 
his  own  soul,  90 ;  man  not  directly 
conscious  of  himself  as  soul  or,  97 ; 
criticism  of  Tylor's  view  of,  99 ;  ob- 
jects appear  to  savages  as  living  agents 
or,  100  ;  vague  use  of  the  term,  101 ; 
Spencer,  Marett,  and  Ratzel  on  mean- 
ing of,  102-103 ;  Tylor,  Skeat,  Kidd, 
and  Smith  on  the  corporeal  nature  of, 
103-105 ;  psychological  interpretation 
of,  in  terms  of  attention,  conception, 
and  habit,  106-108;  connection  of, 
with  taboo,  108 ;  predominance  of 
those  most  important  for  group  inter- 
ests, 109 ;  development  of  dualism 
between  body  and, 111-113;  growth 


and  objectification  of  the  god,  or  113; 

as  objectification  of  consciousness  of 

common  tasks  and  ideals,  114. 
Starbuck,  E.  D.,  3,  9,207,  211,  215,  217, 

221,  237,  256,  259,  264,  266,  272,  288, 

321,  325. 
Stevens,  G.  B.,  187,  286. 
Sumner,  W.  G.,  59,  60,  63. 
Sutherland,  Alexander,  403. 
Symbolism  of  ceremonials  develops  into 

art,  91,  301. 

Taboo,  see  Custom  and. 

Tanner,  Amy,  236-237. 

Theology,  depends  upon  psychology,  7, 

8. 
Thinking,   interlocutory    character    of, 

138-139,  148;  as  purposive,  319. 
Thomas,  N.  W.,  80. 
Thomas,  W.  I.,  37,  39,  41,  42, 44,  50,  59, 

60,  197,  226,  229,  362. 
Todas,  relation  of  ceremonies  to   food 

supply,  48 ;  violent  emotion  and  frenzy 

in   ceremonies,    93 ;    ritual   of,   more 

persistent  than  myth,  160. 
Totem,     see    under     Ceremonials    and 

Magic. 
Tufts,  J.  H.,  190,  404. 
Tylor,  E.  B.,  12,  56,  95,  103,  104,  112,, 

134,  144,  149. 

Uncleanness,  relation  to  taboo,  69-70. 
Veblen,  T.  B.,  283,  361. 

War,  ceremonials  of,  75 ;  kinds  of  magic 

used,  82-83. 
Webster,  H.,  151. 
Westermarck,  Edward,  144. 
Will,  primacy  of,  19 ;  simplest  form  of, 

and   relation   to    habit,   feeling,   and 

ideation,  20. 
Williams,  J.  M.,  388-390. 
Wood,  Irving,  351. 
Woman,  share  in  primitive  culture,  35 ; 

significance  of,  as  social  centre,  36-40. 
Wundt,  W.,  58,  149. 

ZuHis,  myths  of,  150,  156. 


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